


Daring to Love the Devil

by brittishmenorbust



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Awesome Foggy Nelson, Damsels in Distress, Daredevil Season One, F/M, Protectiveness, Romance, Slow Burn, asexual writing smut so sorry but I tried, but like idk I just have a weakness for him protecting me?, friendship with foggy, nothing crazier than the show tho, some smut, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: When you're arrested for no reason, two lawyers come to your aid. After an attempt is made on your life at the precinct, Matt insists you stay with him so he can protect you. The two lawyers must find out who's trying to kill you and why, and you must figure out the mysterious man you're starting to fall for.Basically mostly like season one but with minor alterations and more romance.





	1. Chapter 1

How did you get here? How did you get from walking down the street of New York without a care in the world, to being handcuffed to a table in a police station? Your wrists hurt, and you felt your throat tighten. 

“What am I being arrested for?” you asked for what felt like the millionth time. 

The officer, an Italian man, looked at you out of the side of his eyes, still facing his partner. He assessed you, as if you were an item at auction, and then huffed.

This was at least the fifth time they’d done this to you, and you had no idea why. You’d been on your way out of work, when two policemen had come up and arrested you, pushing you into their backseat without a word of explanation.

You felt helpless. These men were supposed to protect you, and here they were, imprisoning you without reason, refusing to tell you why, or if they even had one. 

“Please,” you nearly begged. 

The Italian rolled his eyes and was about to say something, when there was a knock on the interrogation door. There was no window on it, so you couldn’t see who was on the other side. The Italian opened the door an inch, and exchanged quiet words with the man on the other side. 

“Thank you,” the man on the other side of the door said as the Italian regretfully let him enter. “That will be all, we’d like to speak to our client now,” he added curtly, with a slightly smug smirk.

It took you a moment to realize why he was wearing sunglasses inside. They weren’t quite sunglasses though. They were more like a purple, rounded version. And he held a cane. 

Another man followed him into the room. Long blond hair, almost down to his shoulders, cheeks flushed, presumably from running to catch up with his partner.

The police left the room, and the blonde helped the blind man to a seat across from you. Now that you were up close, you could see the man’s eyes behind his glasses. They stared blankly out, just above your left shoulder. His hair was messy, but almost artfully so. His suit looked good for the minimal money he had spent on it. The other man had caught his breath and was pulling papers out of his briefcase. He had kind eyes and smiled at you with that tight lipped, I’m-sorry-we-had-to-meet-like-this smile.

“Matt Murdock,” said the blind man, extending his hand over the table. 

“Um… Mattie, she’s handcuffed to the table,” the blonde said. 

“Ah,” he said, retracting his hand. “My apologies.”

He got up and opened the door to stick his head into the hallway.

“Can we unchain this woman from the table, please?” he requested to someone outside. 

A woman came in and undid your cuffs. You rubbed your wrists in relief.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “But I didn’t hire any lawyers.”

“Not yet,” the blonde smiled with a can-do spirit. “Foggy Nelson,” he said, holding out his hand. “And this is my partner. We’re here to help.”

You shook both of their hands, noticing the Matt held onto yours a moment longer than was necessary.

“I’m not even sure what you can help with,” you admitted. “They haven’t told me why I’m here.”

Foggy made a face of disbelief, while Matt remained cool.

“Can you tell what happened, Miss…”

“(Y/N),” you answered Matt. “I was just walking out of work and… they just came after me and told me I was under arrest. Then they brought me here. I have no idea why.”

Matt nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting.

“They haven’t officially charged you with anything, otherwise they would have told you,” Matt said. “Sounds like they’re trying to keep whatever this is quiet.”

“Why?” you asked. “I’m just a secretary, I didn’t do anything at work. And I don’t go out much, so I didn’t do anything outside of work.”

“Where is it that you work?” Matt asked. 

“ Union Allied Construction,” you answered. Matt nodded. “Who sent you guys?” You asked. “Did they?”

“Oh, no,” Matt said. “We were just here, and I heard you talking to the officers. Sounded like you needed help.”

“I do,” you admitted, looking at your hands. “But… I’m not sure I have the money to pay you guys.”

“We can worry about that later,” Foggy smiled easily. You cocked your head to the side.

“Lawyers who don’t care about a retainer?” you asked. “That is rather unusual. How long have you guys been around?”

“What time is it?” Matt asked Foggy. 

“A little after five.”

“About three hours,” Matt smiled at you. 

“Oh,” you scoffed. “Are you any good?” you asked. Not that you were in a position to decline free help.

“We’re the best,” Foggy assured you. You nodded. 

“Good enough for me,” you shrugged.

“That should be our motto on our signs,” Foggy grinned. 

You laughed despite yourself. 

“So you just need to sign this, letting the police know that we’re representing you. We’re going to go ask around and see if we can ferret out what’s going on here,” Foggy said seriously. 

You grabbed the paper and signed it, and the two of them stood up. They shook your hand again and left the room. You sat back down, feeling slightly less helpless. They seemed like genuinely good guys, something you rarely ran into in this town.

When a few minutes went by, and you heard the door, you thought it was them coming back. However, the man who entered looked to be neither cop nor lawyer. He was dressed in street clothes, dirty and ripped. You could smell the booze and BO on him from where you sat in your chair. 

“Are you… lost?” you guessed. 

The man looked deranged, just staring at you with wide eyes. You’d seen him somewhere before though… Where?

You didn’t have time to think before he lunged at you. You screamed, getting up from your chair and moving backwards, away from him. He was swinging his arms as if trying to knock down products from supermarket aisles. 

You screamed for help, but the the room’s walls were thick. The man had cornered you. You kicked and fought, but he hit you, his fist connecting with your cheek. Your head slammed back into the wall, and for a moment, you couldn’t see. The man had you in a choke hold, gasping for breath, then you heard the vague sounds of a door opening, people rushing in, hands grabbing. The hold on your neck was gone, but you couldn’t open your eyes. You passed out.

The next thing you remembered was coming to, and seeing bright lights. You blinked, squinting.

“Woah, woah, cowgirl, take your time,” you heard a voice say.

Your eyes adjusted to the hospital lights, and you realized you were on a gurney. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“You were attacked,” Matt answered, coming out of nowhere, it seemed to you. There was a hidden line of frustration beneath that tone, an anger simmering just below his neutral lips.

“Right,” you answered. “That explains the body hurting thing.”

“We’ll get a nurse to make sure you’re ok. They said to get them once you woke up after they examined you,” Foggy said, and he went off to find someone.

“Easy,” Matt said, as you went to touch your cheek. You weren’t sure how he knew you were doing that. His hand caught yours. “Best to let leave that alone. You’re stitched up.”

“Jesus,” you sighed. “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said seriously. “Did you know that man?”

You thought for a moment, now that you had the luxury. 

“He used to work with me,” you realized. “He was fired a few months ago. No idea what he did. He was just sort of around.”

Matt considered this for a moment. 

“I think you might be in trouble,” Matt said quietly. “Your company… has been the interest of a few groups lately. This man attacks you after you’re arrested without reason…”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t done anything. Why were you being targeted?

“Do you know anything that might put you in danger?” Matt asked, stepping closer and speaking barely above a whisper.

“I don’t… I don’t think so,” you answered frantically. “Not that I know of.”

Matt was still for a moment, seemingly listening to something other than your words. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“Okay,” he said, definitively.

Foggy returned with a nurse who looked you over, shined some lights in your eyes, and told you that you were fine.

“So what now?” you asked, as Foggy took your arm to steady you as you walked out of the hospital. 

“Now, I think you should find somewhere safe. Not your apartment. Do you have any friends or family in the area?” Matt asked. 

“No,” you answered, a bit embarrassed. “Not really.”

Matt’s lips tightened into a thin line. 

“You can stay with me,” he offered. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You hesitated for a moment. If someone was attacking you, wouldn’t it be better to stay with someone who could see who they were fighting? Still, Foggy seemed on board with the idea, and you didn’t really have any other options.

“I don’t want to put you out,” you muttered. 

“It’d be my pleasure,” he assured you. “You can tell me if my walls need repainting.” He gave you a wry smile.

“Thanks,” you said. 

Foggy rode with you on the subway until it was his stop, and then left you and Matt alone to ride another stop to his apartment. You said nothing to the blind man as you sat next to him. In your head was a ruckus of internal voices, all screaming different anxieties, fears, and thoughts.

Once off the subway and onto the street, the tapping of Matt’s cane against the sidewalk calmed you. It was a constant, repetitive noise that almost turned into a meditative quality. “Come on, not far,” Matt said. 

You took his arm without thinking, and his tapping stopped for a moment before resuming.

Matt led you upstairs and to the last door on the left. He inserted his key into his lock with surprising agility, and led you inside. 

You couldn’t see much at first. The hallway was dark. Matt rested his cane against the wall and hung up his coat, holding his hand out for yours. You handed it over, feeling a little less than yourself, like your actions were automated.

“I’d say nice place… But I can’t really see it,” you said, trying to bring your mind back to your body. 

“Right,” he laughed. “Light switch is on the wall next to the door.”

“You must have a super low electricity bill,” you smiled. 

“One of many perks,” he smirked. 

You walked into his living room and took in the apartment. It was a wide open space, with a giant screen of a billboard right in front of the window on the building opposite the apartment. Alternating purple and white light flooded the room, spilling into the small kitchen on your right, and the bedroom on your left.

“Wow,” was all you could say.   
“I’m told it is quite bright,” Matt laughed. “Don’t worry, you can take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“Not sure I can sleep anywhere tonight,” you admitted.

He nodded knowingly. He walked easily to the kitchen and put on a kettle.

“Tea?” he asked. 

“Thanks,” you smiled slightly.

He moved around his kitchen freely, finding the tea bags and some sugar, and pulling out two mugs.

“How long did it take you to memorize your apartment?” you asked. Then you balked, wondering if it were rude to ask such a question. 

“Only after about a hundred bumps of the shin and elbows,” Matt smiled easily. You relaxed. 

The kettle boiled quickly, and Matt dumped the tea bags into the mugs. He brought them over to you without so much as a thought of spilling them.

“Cheers,” you said, macabrely. 

He took a sip and looked at you seriously. 

“We’ll find whoever’s trying to get to you and stop them,” Matt promised. 

“I just wish I knew why they were doing this,” you said. 

“Why don’t you give Foggy your work email login and password. Maybe he’ll find some clues on there that you didn’t see?” Matt suggested. 

“Good idea,” you said, feeling a little more hopeful. 

He gave you the number and you texted the info to Foggy. Sighing, you put your phone away. You were both unmoving in that moment. You were looking out at the rain against the shining billboard, and Matt’s attention seemed to be on his tea, though you were sure he was respecting the silence you needed.

“Do you want to sit down, maybe?” Matt suggested. You wondered if he could hear how tired you were. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

You sat down on his couch and relaxed into the soft fabric. He followed, sitting down a little more restrained, a good distance away from you.

“So,” you said. “Do you take every client back to your place? Or just the ones with their lives threatened?”   
Matt laughed. 

“I’m sure Foggy thinks I bring all of the women home, but no. You’re a one time deal,” he smiled. 

You could see it. You could see him having a way with the ladies. He was handsome, a lawyer, and really genuine.

“How long have you known Foggy?” you asked, happy to distract yourself with someone else’s life.

“Since college,” Matt said. 

“I can only imagine a college Foggy,” you laughed, wondering how long his hair was back then.

Matt laughed too, and you felt a sting on your cheek as you chuckled. 

“Ow, fuck,” you winced, bringing your hand to your cheek. “I think I popped a stitch.”

You pulled your phone out and saw that you had, in fact, ripped two stitches at the end of your cut.

“I can help with that,” Matt said, getting up to go to the kitchen. 

He returned with a first aid kit. He brought out some numbing cream, a small hooked needle, and string. 

“Are you seriously suggesting I let a blind man near my face with a needle?” you asked, half kidding, half serious.

Matt laughed, lowering the needle.

“I used to fix my dad up all the time,” he explained. “I’m well practiced in facial injuries.”

When you realized he couldn’t see the doubtful expression you wore, you said, “Why is that?”

“He was a boxer,” Matt said. “Not a particularly forgiving sport.”

“I guess not,” you muttered. Taking a breath, you added, “Okay, I trust you.”

Matt paused for a moment, as if those words meant a lot to him. The corners of his lips twitched up, and he opened the numbing cream. He edged closer to you on the couch, reaching out with one hand to feel where you were sitting. Your body reacted with an unexpected tingling when he touched your knee. Once he found you, he moved closer, and dabbed the cream on a q-tip. He gently hovered one hand over the area, as if feeling heat over a fire. Then, he cupped your face gently, and dabbed the cream right onto the spot. It felt better almost instantly, and very numb.

Matt threaded the needle, and you wondered why anyone would think that blind people needed any sort of help. He guided the needle up towards your face and you closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing. 

“It’s okay, it won’t hurt, I promise,” Matt said softly, his thumb moving comfortingly on your jaw.

You could feel pressure as he moved the needle, and some tugging, but it didn’t hurt. And it was over as soon as it had begun.

“That should do it,” he said, packing the kit away. 

You opened your phone to look at yourself in your camera. It looked fine, like it had been done by the doctor.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out for his hand. “Really, thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to let me stay here, you didn’t have to find me and take my case for nothing… I can’t… Just thank you.”

Matt smiled tightly, like he was unused to being thanked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

“I don’t want to keep you if you want to sleep,” you said. “I don’t think I can, but I don’t want to stop you from getting a few winks.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m here for you.” You could feel that he meant it.

Your hands were still in his, and you had almost forgotten with how natural it felt. You wanted to reach out and run your hands through his hair, down his jawline, but you resisted. This man was helping you, not trying to be seduced.

“What would you like to do?” he asked, after clearing his throat. 

“I don’t know,” you answered. Did you want to talk about your case? No. You wanted an escape. “Maybe… tell me more about you?”

He chuckled and turned his face. 

“I’m not that interesting,” he said. It almost sounded like a practiced defense, like he had something to hide almost.

“Did you grow up here?” you asked. He nodded. 

“Sometimes it feels like the city is literally in my blood,” he shook his head. “You?”

“No, but I can see why people are so protective of it, it’s beautiful in its way.”

Matt nodded. 

“It’s about potential,” he said. “The people here, the atmosphere, it’s full of it. It’s intoxicating.”

Intoxicating would be the word in your head as well, but not to describe the city - to describe Matt. His easy manner, his smell, his voice. Intoxicating ran in his veins as it did the city’s.

“Worth fighting for,” you said, almost to yourself, but it caught his attention.

“You could say that,” he responded, in the same inside-joke-with-himself manner.

You were both silent a moment before you voiced what was on your mind.

“Um… Matt… What happens if we can’t find who’s trying to kill me? I can’t just live with you forever. I… I don’t have anywhere else I can go,” you admitted, feeling your throat tense up.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. Somehow he knew that a tear had rolled down your uninjured cheek, because he swept it away with his thumb, cupping your face with his hand. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. If I have to beat up every criminal in Hell’s Kitchen to find who did this, I will,” he said. You chuckled, but felt comforted. 

“Every one?” you asked, sniffing.

“No stone unturned,” he promised.

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

His hand was still on your cheek. He seemed to realize this and retracted it, but kept his other hand with yours. You sighed deeply, sliding back against the couch. You felt tired now all of the sudden. 

“Do you want to try to sleep?” Matt asked. You wondered if he could read your mind.

“I guess,” you shrugged. “Lord knows when I actually try I won’t be able to. I’ll just keep seeing that… man… coming at me,” you shivered involuntarily.

Matt shook his head.

“What can I do to make you feel safe?” he asked.

And you realized you’d never been asked that by a man before. In all truth, you just didn’t want to be alone.

“Just stay near me?” you asked. You felt foolish asking this near stranger to babysit you.

“You got it,” he said. “How about a change of clothes too. I have a few things that might not be too big.”

You smiled. 

“That’d be great,” you sighed. “Maybe I could steal the shower too?”

“You got it,” he said. “Why don’t you go shower, use whatever you want in there, sorry it’s probably all men’s products. I’ll leave the clothes for you by the door.”

“That sounds amazing,” you sighed. “Thanks.”

He nodded and went to search his drawers. You went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. You disrobed while it was warming up, and you heard a knock at the door.

“Clothes are right here,” you heard Matt say, followed by his receding footsteps.

You found a shirt and sweatpants that had a drawstring, and put them on the sink counter. You took your shower, reveling in how rejuvenating it felt. When you were done, you put on Matt’s clothes. They smelled like him, and you caught yourself enjoying it. The shirt went down to about your mid thigh, and you had to tie the drawstring quite a bit on the pants, but it was comfortable, and better than your old clothes.

You made your way back out to the couch where Matt sat, and sat down.

“Do you want my bed?” he asked. 

“Too lazy to move,” you decided. “You can take the bed. I’ll deal with the light.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor next to you,” he said. 

You were going to object, but he had already grabbed one of the couch pillows and a blanket, and laid on the floor.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, mildly amused at his needless chivalry. “The bed is close enough. As long as you’re in screaming distance, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper,” he lied. 

It seemed you would not budge him from this spot. You had tried.

You laid down and looked at him. He had taken off his glasses and closed his eyes. He looked peaceful, and the lavender light washed over him evenly. The couch was low enough to the ground to reach his hand, and you took it, interlacing your fingers with his. 

He didn’t even stir, though you were sure he wasn’t asleep. He gripped your hand in his reassuringly, and you positioned your body on the couch to comfortably hold his hand.

You fell asleep almost instantly.

You woke to a far away sound. When you blinked and opened your eyes, you realized it was Matt’s alarm in the other room. You made to move, and realized your hand was still in Matt’s. He flexed his fingers before inhaling sharply and getting up. He left your side to turn off his alarm. Yawning and stretching as he returned to the couch, you saw his shirt rise just enough to make it a very nice view. Blushing, you turned away and sat up.

“Sorry about that. It’s programmed for every day.”

His voice was scratchy and deep with sleep. He grabbed his glasses off the floor and slipped them on.

“Do you always wear your glasses at home?” you wondered.

“Not usually,” he said, walking to the kitchen.

“No need to wear them for me,” you said. “I mean, do what you want, but I can’t even wear sunglasses for two minutes when it’s bright out. Gives my nose a headache.”

He chuckled. 

“Usually makes people uncomfortable to see me not quite looking at them,” he said. And you wondered if anyone had ever told him that to his face. You frowned.

“Well, I don’t care,” you said. “And why are you the one making breakfast? I should be pulling my weight around here if I’m going to be mooching off you.”

He smiled and gestured to the kitchen as if to say  _ it’s all yours. _

You found your way around his kitchen and he listened to you as you worked, telling you where to find things with very specific instructions. You made some omelets and ate together. 

“I should go into the office today,” he explained. “You should probably come with me.”

You nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see.

“Yes, yeah, makes sense,” you said. You still couldn’t understand how you could forget that he couldn’t see your body language. “Wish I had a change of clothes,” you lamented.

“Well, if you can tolerate your pants from yesterday, you might be able to pull off one of my dress shirts,” he suggested. “I feel like Foggy’s seen that in magazines and talked about it.”

You chuckled. 

“That sounds great,” you said. You were sure your shirt had some blood on it, but the pants should be fine.

When you were finished with breakfast, you followed Matt to his room. He handed you a pressed shirt, and you changed in the bathroom where you’d left your pants. You thought you did actually pull off the ensemble, and it felt strangely nice to be wearing his shirt. Like it somehow protected you.

You emerged from the bathroom and grabbed your coat and purse. 

“Ready?” you asked, seeing that Matt was standing by the couch, dressed in a very flattering suit.

“Yeah,” he smiled at you. His glasses were back on, and he held out his arm for you to take.

It seemed so natural to interlock your arms like this, and you grabbed his cane for him and handed it to him as you walked out of the apartment. 

The world didn’t seem so gray and hopeless in the sunlight. With Matt on your arm, and the sun shining on your face, you actually found yourself smiling a little.

“Well, it really is a good morning,” Foggy said brightly once he saw you walk in. 

You released Matt’s arm and you both rid yourselves of your coats. 

“I see you’ve survived the night thanks to the heroic, yet stoic Matt Murdock,” Foggy grinned.

“Stoic?” Matt smirked.

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy said. “You’ve got that broody look about you when you look out windows. The chicks dig it,” Foggy winked at you.

Matt shook his head and sighed, walking into his office.

“I wanted to thank you for going through all my emails and crap,” you said seriously. “It’s gotta be boring as hell.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Foggy grinned, walking into his office. You followed. “But lucky for you, I am a go getter. And that means boring work is my bread and butter. Mostly just bread though, because there’s generally no flavor. I guess I’m looking for the butter.”

You laughed, and it seemed to surprise Foggy who had lost himself in his analogy. He shook his head at something he must have been thinking.

“So how was your night last night?” he asked, with a hint of suggestiveness.

“I slept a little,” you said, ignoring his raised eyebrow. “So that was good.”

You knew he was wondering if something had happened between you and his friend, as apparently was common, but you weren’t about to lie, or tell him that you wished it had.

“Uh-huh,” he said, biting his lip in thought. “Listen, if you’re going to fall in love with one of us, have it be me. Mattie’s got it easy, I’m the one who needs the love.”

Usually, from anyone else, this would have bothered you, felt like you were being hit on. But somehow, with Foggy, it felt natural and funny.

“Oh?” you asked, sitting in the chair on the other side of his desk. “You think your life of full vision is more difficult?”

“Mattie gets all the girls with that schtick. All I have to work with is my amazing body and charming personality.”

You chuckled, and he seemed pleased that he made you smile. Matt walked in, then.

“You aren’t laughing at Foggy, are you?” Matt teased. 

“I am occasionally funny,” Foggy defended himself.

“Maybe to yourself,” Matt smirked. Then, seriously, “Any leads on the emails?”

Foggy frowned.

“No, not yet. But I’m combing through, sure I’ll find something.”

The rest of the day consisted of basically milling around, trying to tidy up, answering the phone the one time it rang, and directing lost people who were looking for the surrounding businesses. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that these lawyers weren’t busy. It meant they had more time for your case, but if they weren’t in demand, were they any good?

The end of the day came at last, and Foggy told the two of you to head out, he was going to comb through the emails some more.

You and Matt took the subway, and when you emerged from your stop, it was pouring rain. You hadn’t looked at the weather, and didn’t have an umbrella with you. You couldn’t exactly run with Matt, so you had to walk through the rain. You wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t so cold.

By the time you got back to his apartment, it felt like you’d jumped in a freezing lake. You were shivering as you took off your soaked coat.

“You’re shaking,” Matt nearly whispered as you stood before him. 

“Can you hear my teeth chattering?” you laughed.

“I can,” he smiled.

You looked at him, his wet shirt clinging to his frame, his hair messy, and matted to his forehead.

“Let me grab you some dry clothes,” Matt said quickly, pulling you out of your admiration. 

You walked with him to his bedroom. He sifted through some clothes, and came out with what looked like gym clothes. Sweat pants, the ones you’d had on yesterday, and a large (for you) t-shirt. He walked to you and extended the clothes. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

You were going to go to the bathroom to change, but you realized it didn’t really matter. You simply got undressed while he turned his face to the window. It was strange, being naked in front of him.

In a way, it was freeing. In another, it was strangely arousing. 

You slipped the dry clothes on, and smiled at their baggy warmth. They smelled amazing too.

“Thanks,” you reiterated. 

“No problem,” he smiled.

He took off his suit jacket and hung it up, followed by the shedding of his dress shirt. You realized then how much the suit had hidden. He was in amazing shape. As he shrugged off the shirt, you could see the definition of his abs clearly. You wanted to run your hands down them. You felt incredibly guilty for looking at him, when he had turned his head from you even though he couldn’t see you. 

He continued undressing and you turned your head. You wondered if he knew you were looking, and if he had minded. 

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer with mine,” he said softly. Your clothes were in front of you, and he reached around you from behind to grab them, gently touching a hand to your waist to steady himself and keep his bearings. His chest touched your back for a moment, and you realized how much you wanted him close to you. You hadn’t known this man for long, but something deep inside you told you to trust him, to let him protect you.

He grabbed your clothes, well, his shirt, and your pants, and threw your stuff together into the dryer down the hall, and walked back into the room.

“Better?” he asked. 

“Definitely,” you said. “Still kinda cold though. Like you know that sort of unshakeable, internal cold?”

“Tea? Whiskey?” he asked. 

“Whiskey,” you laughed. “Definitely.”

Matt nodded and got two glasses from the kitchen, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey. It was mostly full.

After a few sips in silence, you found you were still shaking slightly. 

“Not working?” Matt guessed, after a particularly violent shiver from you nearly rocked the couch.

“I h-have a hard time warming up sometimes,” you shivered.

Matt grabbed the blanket he had slept under and stood up. 

“Come here,” he said, holding out the blanket. 

You stood up and walked towards him. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and held his arms out as if for a hug. 

“As long as you’re comfortable,” he said suddenly, as if you hadn’t known this was completely voluntary. 

In answer, you stepped forward and pressed yourself against him, sighing happily at how warm he was. He wrapped his arms and the blanket around you, bringing you into a cocoon of warmth. 

You nestled into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. His chest was firm, and you melded against it, feeling his heartbeat. 

His head was straight forward, and you closed your eyes as you warmed up. 

“Working?” he asked, and you felt his chest vibrate with his voice. 

“Everywhere but my toes,” you laughed. “But hey, my own personal space heater, who could ask for more?”

He chuckled and then released his arms from around you. 

“Here, follow me,” he said. 

You laced your fingers with his and followed him to his bedroom. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to try something with you. 

“Here, get under the covers, this way our whole bodies will be covered and the heat will stay trapped.”

“Science,” you declared, getting under the covers. 

He laughed, getting in on the other side. You shimmied closer to him, and he felt for you. You guided his hand to your hip. He tucked the comforter in around the back of you first, and then snuggled up right in front of you, his face level with yours. His feet found yours and he inhaled quickly.

“Wow, your feet are ice,” he laughed.

“Sorry,” you winced. 

“Personal space heater,” he said. “It’s my job.”

You smiled at this and bit your lip. Your face was inches from his and you were glad he couldn’t see how often you were glancing down at his lips.

“There’s the defrost starting,” he said after a moment, when your feet had started to warm up.

“You’re getting a raise,” you chided. He chuckled.

You told yourself that you nestled in closer to him because you were still cold, but if you were being honest, you just wanted to be closer to him. He absently stroked your back, and you felt the most safe you had in awhile.

Still, the thought of the man trying to kill you in the police station haunted you every time you closed your eyes.

“Matt,” you nearly whispered.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You’ll… keep me safe, right?”

He hugged you tighter to him, and took a deep breath.

“No matter what.”


	2. Chapter 2

You woke up an hour after you and Matt had gotten into the bed. It was a little late for dinner, but you were starving. You stomach rumbled and you heard Matt chuckle behind you.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, embarrassed.

“It echoed my stomach,” he assured you. 

Laughing, you rolled over to face him. You were very warm now, and you didn’t need him, but you wanted him. 

“Sorry I fell asleep,” you said. “Did you?”

“No,” he said. “Just thinking.”

There was a strange darkness to that sentence that both intrigued and worried you.

“Care to share with the class?” you asked. He laughed.

“Nothing interesting,” he lied. “What would you like for dinner? I think I have… An avocado.”

“Oh wow, so many options,” you chuckled. “How about we just order Chinese food?”

“You got it,” he smiled. 

The two of you ordered your food and it arrived within an hour. It was so good, and you enjoyed eating and talking with Matt about everything and nothing. You’d opened up a few beers, and were happily buzzed.

When you were both stuffed with lo mein, you sat back on the couch and sighed, content.

“Can I ask you something personal?” you asked.

“Sure,” Matt said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Do you… remember, what it’s like to see?”

He smiled like he got this question a lot.

“Yeah,” he said, as if admitting a secret. “It happened when I was nine. They say that you should let it go, that you should try not to miss it but… I’d do anything to see the sky again.”

You nodded, trying to understand what that felt like.

“I just… I can’t imagine not knowing what you look like,” you said, almost to yourself.   
“I can see you,” he said. “In a way.”

“How?” you asked.

He held his hands up to your face. 

“May I?” he asked. You brought his hands to your face with yours.

Closing your eyes, you felt his fingers moving gently and nimbly across your features. He felt along every curve, starting at your forehead and traveling down. He ran his thumb along your lips and down to your chin. He wound both his hands down your neck and collarbone, down your shoulders and to your hands, finally taking them in his.

“Foggy was right,” he said. You tilted your head to the side. “You are beautiful.”

You blushed. It didn’t feel like a come-on, more like he was just saying it because it was true to him.

“Well, Foggy is very generous,” you said shyly. You looked at him. “Has anyone ever…”

“Not any seeing person,” he answered.

“May I?” you echoed. 

He brought your hands to his face in answer. You closed your eyes, trying to forget his face and reconstruct it from touch alone. In your mind's eye, as you traveled down his face with your hands, he was more beautiful than you remembered. Smooth skin, cheekbones, full lips, it felt like you couldn’t get enough. You mimicked his movements by running your hands down his neck and shoulders and settling back into his hands.

“Beautiful,” you said seriously, opening your eyes. It was his turn to laugh.

“Now who’s being generous?”

“You really don’t know how handsome you’ve grown up to be,” you realized. 

“I only know what I feel, and what people tell me,” he admitted. 

“So you do know,” you chided. He laughed again. “What do you think is the most important part when reading someone’s face like that?” you asked.

His hand went up to your cheek and he caressed it with the back of his hand. He trailed down again to your lips.

“Here,” he said, ghosting his thumb along your lower lip. 

He leaned in slightly, so close you could feel his breath ghost your lips.

“ _ Foggy. Foggy,”  _ and electronic female voice said. 

You both drew back as if you had been about to do something wrong, and Matt slipping his hand into his pocket, revealing his phone to be the cause of the disruption. You blushed, turning your gaze away from him and touching a finger to your lips.

“Yes,” Matt said, after clearing his throat.

You couldn’t hear Foggy’s response, but Matt listened for about thirty seconds.

“Okay, door’s locked, but let yourself in with your key.”   
He hung up. 

“What was that about?” you asked, still unable to turn towards him.

“Um, Foggy thinks he found something in your emails. He’s coming over to show us,” Matt said, his voice carefully even.

You didn’t know what to say. You had been about to kiss, hadn't you? Was it a mistake? You barely knew this man. And yet there was something so familiar about him, like he’d been with you in a past life.

It didn’t take long for Foggy to get to Matt’s apartment, and he let himself in when he got there. You invited him into the living room and he sat on the couch, taking the place between you and Matt.

“Alright,” Foggy said, pulling up your emails. “It took forever, and my retinas will never be the same, but I think I found what they’re after.”

He opened the trash folder of your email.

“It was deleted. I don’t know if you did it, or they did, but it wasn’t gone completely.”

He pulled up an email that read: PENSION PLAN UPDATE.

“Do you remember this?” Foggy asked, opening the attachment. It was a large spreadsheet full of names and numbers.

“Not really,” you said, trying to think back. 

“The numbers are all wrong here,” Foggy said. “I did some digging, and these employees are getting about half of what they should be. The rest is funneling into some very interesting places.”

“Interesting how?” Matt asked. 

“Interesting like off-shore accounts and business fronts,” Foggy said, almost proudly.

“They must have thought you’d figured it out,” Matt said. 

“I didn’t!” you nearly cried. “I didn’t give it a second thought. I would have seen the subject line and thrown it away. I was just a secretary, no one was meant to send me plans. I mostly coordinated stuff. I figured it was just sent to the wrong person.”

“It definitely was,” Foggy said. “But when they saw they had sent it to you, they knew they had to take care of that.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Matt asked. 

Foggy frowned and sighed.

“The CEO,” he cringed.

Matt massaged his forehead with his fingers and took a deep breath. 

“Can we prove it?” he asked.

“As long as we have this document, and the email, I think so,” Foggy said. “But bringing down a whole corporation?”

“They’ll question the authenticity,” Matt said. “Things people can do with Photoshop nowadays, or so I’m told.”

“They can definitely do this,” Foggy agreed. “And we don’t have any proof these are the actual figures. Could be an accounting error.”

“There must be proof somewhere or they wouldn’t be trying to kill me,” you said quietly. The two men turned to you.

“Good point,” Foggy said.

“I’ll ask around, see what I can find out,” Matt said. Foggy turned to him with an exasperated look on his face. “I’ll be discrete,” Matt promised.

“I’ll bring this to Mahoney,” Foggy said. “Maybe he has some idea, maybe not. Worth a shot.”

“What can I do?” you asked. 

Foggy smiled at you.

“Just continue falling in love with me,” he winked. “Somehow… Even though you’re staying with Matt…” He feigned sadness and confusion for a moment before grinning at you again.

“I’m going to head out now, Foggy would you mind staying with (Y/N)?” Matt asked, standing and walking over to the coat rack.

“Now?” Foggy asked. “Aren’t most of your contacts asleep or getting ready to be?”

“I know a few that’ll be up,” he promised. “It can’t wait.”

“Okay,” Foggy said. “I’ll text Mahoney and tell him to meet me in the morning at the station. What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“Late,” Matt said before hastily walking out the door with his cane.

Foggy frowned down at his lap as he closed his laptop.

“Guess it’s just you and me then,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

“So much,” Foggy smiled. “Let’s find something on Netflix. Matt doesn’t own any,” he said.

Foggy opened his laptop, and was going to start typing, but you asked what was on your mind.

“Matt said you’ve known each other since college?” you asked. “I told him I could only imagine a college Foggy.”   
Foggy grinned. 

“I was quite the scholar,” he said. 

“I bet,” you laughed. “What was Matt like, back then?” you asked hesitantly.

Your interest was duly noted by Foggy who smirked.

“The same,” he said. “Mr. Do-Right. He was the smartest kid there for sure. He partied sometimes, but he always has had that dad quality about him.”

“Dad quality?” you laughed. 

“Yeah, like he wants to protect people, take care of them.”

“Isn’t that just like a human quality?” you countered.

“Nah, it’s different with Matt, more intense, I think,” he reflected. “Do you know many people who would take a random person into their apartment the first day them met them in a police station interrogation room?” he asked.

“No,” you admitted. You certainly wouldn’t have.

“Then again, he can always tell when women are ho--- Beautiful,” he corrected himself.

“A useful sixth sense,” you jested. Foggy smiled, relieved you hadn’t been made to feel uncomfortable.

“Know what my sixth sense is?” Foggy asked. 

“What?”

“Knowing a good sandwich place before I’ve even eaten there,” he said proudly.

“Wow,” you pretended to marvel. “That is very helpful.”

“It’s like a super power,” he shrugged.

“Saving the day one hoagie at a time,” you grinned. 

You glanced at Foggy’s laptop screen and saw an article from the local paper up. 

**_Devil of Hell’s Kitchen Assists in Mob Arrest_ **

“Who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the fuzzy picture the article provided of a man on the ledge of a building.

Foggy tensed slightly, but threw his hand up in the air.

“Some nut,” he said dismissively. “Thinks he can save the city.”

“Looks like he’s doing an okay job,” you said.

“He’s a vigilante,” Foggy said. “Working outside the law doesn’t exactly get claps from me.”

“I guess I see that,” you admitted. “Still, there are some things that the law can’t do,” you shrugged. “I mean, I’m not saying every superhero team should destroy half a city if they can help it… But helping out the people of Manhattan isn’t such a bad thing.”

Foggy cocked his head and looked at you for a moment.

“I think you’d get along with him,” he laughed. “Now. Pick a film any film,” Foggy said, directing your attention to Netflix.

You watched a few films. It was late by the time Matt called Foggy, and you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Foggy asked after picking up. 

You instantly woke up and waited for Foggy to tell you what was wrong. He exchanged a few more words with Matt and hung up.

“Matt’s been in a car accident,” Foggy said. He almost sounded unsure, as if he had misheard or immediately forgotten what he’d been told. 

“He was driving?” you asked, confused.

“No, he was hit by one. The guy just drove away,” Foggy said. His face was white, and he ran his hand through his hair, standing up.

“Shit,” you muttered. “But he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “He said it just glanced him, but he’s beaten up.”

“He’s on his way back now?” you asked. Suddenly, the need to see Matt, to make  _ sure _ he was okay was unbearable.

“Yeah,” Foggy confirmed.

You waited in tense silence until Matt finally came home. You both rushed to him. You wanted to hug him, to hold him and make sure he was still in one piece, but you resisted. 

Foggy hugged him, though, gently.

“Jesus, man, you really scared me,” Foggy said, emotion affecting his voice.

“Me too,” you agreed. You reached for his hand tentatively and gave it a squeeze. It felt strange to do anything else in front of Foggy.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “Just a little bruised in some places.”

“You don’t think anything’s broken?” Foggy asked.

“No,” Matt assured him. “I’m fine.”

“You need to be more careful,” Foggy scolded.

“I will be,” Matt promised.

You sighed and led him over to the couch.

“Do you need anything? Can I get anything for you?” Foggy asked. 

“No, Foggy. Just go home, get some rest. You have to meet with Mahoney tomorrow.”

“Right,” Foggy said, distracted. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Matt said tiredly. 

You hugged Foggy and walked him to the door. 

“Take care of him,” he whispered to you. You nodded and locked the door behind him.

W alking back over to Matt, you sat down next to him. His cheek was bruised, mirroring the injury on your own face. Lord knew where else he was bruised.

“Did you go to the hospital?” you asked.    
“I’m fine,” he promised. 

“What if you’re bleeding internally?” you questioned. 

“He didn’t hit me that hard,” Matt said.

You looked at him skeptically, looking down the length of his body. You saw a red spot on his shirt near his hip and gasped. 

“You’re bleeding,” you said. 

He looked concerned and surprised. 

“Your hip,” you said. 

His hand ran down to his hip and he winced as his hand came back wet with blood. He shrugged off his suit with immense effort, and started to unbutton his shirt.

“Just relax,” you told him, guiding his hands away from the buttons. 

You unbuttoned his shirt easily, and parted it enough to see where the wound was. It wasn’t anywhere near life threatening, but it did require stitches. 

“Where’s that first aid kit?” you asked. 

“Kitchen cabinet, third from the left,” he said.

You retrieved it and opened the kit. You grabbed the numbing cream and applied it around the wound where you were going to stitch. You were on autopilot then, not worrying about the blood that was slowly coming out of him.

“Even stitches, deep enough into the skin to hold,” Matt explained. “You’ll be fine.”

You nodded and took a deep breath. You did your best, and in the end, it didn’t look so bad. It had definitely stopped the bleeding, or most of it, anyway. You got a clean cloth and wiped the blood away. Now that you weren’t in such extreme circumstances, you allowed yourself to look at Matt. 

His hair was disheveled, and he was laying with his arms resting on the top of the couch, revealing his entire torso. You found yourself again wanting to run your hands down his toned body, but you finished wiping the blood away and put the cloth down.

“You’re a pro,” Matt said, giving you a crooked smile. 

You wanted to smile, but seeing him hurt gave you no pleasure. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked. 

“I’m sure,” he said calmly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answered. “I just… I’m not a huge fan of you getting hurt.”

Matt laughed at this and you looked at him, puzzled. 

“I take it from your silence that you’re confused?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. 

“It’s just that you were attacked, I was hit by a car. And yet you seem more worried.”

You did have to chuckle at this. 

“I can take care of myself,” you decided. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You don’t need to worry about me either,” Matt said. 

“But I do.”

“As do I,” he admitted. 

“Look at us, two worry warts,” you smiled.

“You’ll have to tell me if I start to get worry lines in my face,” Matt smirked.

You gently leaned forward and ran your thumb across his forehead.

“Smooth so far,” you said softly. He smiled. 

You ran your fingers gently along his face down his cheek and jawline. There was a pause, a tension suddenly. He turned to you. He leaned toward you slightly without moving his torso. Once again you were within inches of his lips.

“Matt,” you breathed, before he kissed you.

You closed your eyes and felt his lips on yours. His hand cupped your jaw as you opened your lips to him, letting him in. He was everywhere around you, swimming in delicious smells, tingling sensations everywhere. You couldn’t get enough of him. You hadn’t known him long but it felt like your body had been waiting for his.

You didn’t think before you straddled him, and pushed against him. He broke the kiss to wince and hiss at the pain. You’d hit his stitches. 

“Oh, shit,” you said, pulling back and adjusting yourself. 

“It’s okay,” Matt promised, his hands on your hips. You were still in his lap, but hesitant to move lest you hurt another injured part of him.

You waited for a moment to see if the stitches were bleeding again, but everything seemed okay. When you turned your attention back to Matt, he had a pleased, happy expression on his features. 

“So,” he laughed. 

“Yeah,” you smirked. 

“That was… unexpected.”

“Good unexpected?” you asked, suddenly a little insecure.

“Yes, of course,” Matt smiled. 

He felt for your face and tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned in and gently kissed him, careful not to touch too much of his injured body. He responded gently too, shyly.

You stopped yourself before things could advance too far, pulling away regretfully, your eyes fluttering open.

“We should probably get some sleep,” you lamented. “If we’re going to find out what Mahoney tells Foggy.”

Matt’s hand glided down your arm gently, reverently, and he nodded. Carefully, you stood up, holding his hand as he followed. You padded across the apartment to his bed, assuming since your last encounter that it would be acceptable if not welcome.

Letting go of his hand, you undressed to your bra and panties and slipped in under the covers. He shed his jacket and shirt, bending over to rid himself of his pants and socks as well. It felt strangely domestic. You’d only met this man two days ago, and yet here you were sharing his bed. Albeit, not like  _ that _ , but still.

He climbed into bed, feeling the space to see where you were. You met his searching hand with your own and led him into bed.

Without words, you took his hand and used it to wrap him around you. You could feel his bare chest against your back, his strong arms around you keeping you safe.

“Do you think Mahoney will be able to help?” you asked tentatively. 

“I hope so,” Matt answered, noncommittally. You sighed. 

“I wish I understood why this was happening to me,” you said. “I didn’t even know what they were doing was wrong. And I also feel stupid for that.”

“You wanted to see the best in people,” Matt said. “You dismissed it as something irrelevant because you didn’t think anyone would create something sinister.”

You frowned, wondering if this were true.

“Well it sounds nice when you put it like that,” you said, squeezing his arm to your body. “Thanks,” you added.

“Anytime,” he said, and unexpectedly kissed your neck.

You were still for a moment, having not expected such attention, but soon you melted into him, feeling his scruff graze your skin as he pulled away. You felt flushed and happy for a moment, and soon enough, you fell asleep.

You woke in the early morning to a banging on Matt’s door, followed by a key turning, and Foggy rushing in. You and Matt didn’t have time to fully open your eyes before the blonde man had made it halfway across the room.

“Matt, you won’t believe it, Mahoney said--”

Foggy stopped for a moment, having looked up from the papers he was holding to see you and Matt sitting very close together in bed. No doubt your bedhead didn’t help his assumptions, and Matt’s arm was still partially around you.

“Well, well, am I interrupting something?” Foggy asked in a singsong voice with a impish smile on his face.

Matt cleared his throat and shifted slightly, drawing his arm back from around you. You rubbed your eyes and tried your best to not yawn. Perhaps you should have felt embarrassed, but you didn’t. 

“What won’t I believe?” Matt answered coolly.

Foggy blinked, smiled to himself, and looked back down at his folder as Matt got out of bed. You grabbed the shirt you’d borrowed the other day and slipping it on while Foggy’s attention was on the paper. It covered you until a little above your knee. While Matt found some sweatpants, Foggy told what he found. 

“So, turns out that, through a lot of business jargon and things you’d need more than my mere mortal powers to detect, Mahoney knew of a guy who might be involved with this stuff.”

“You actually got a lead?” you asked. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Foggy said. While he feigned confidence, you noticed his Adam’s apple bob when he saw you step out of the bedroom.

“Sorry,” you laughed.

“So who’s the guy?” Matt asked. You couldn't help but watch how he moved so easily towards Foggy’s voice. His stitches had held through the night, and he didn’t seem to be in much pain.

“ John Healy,” Foggy reported proudly. “He’s a hitman.”

“Is he the one who tried to…” you felt your cheek and winced. 

“No,” Foggy said. “But Mahoney’s pretty sure he’s the one who set that up, paid the guy to try.”

“And do we know who he works for?” Matt asked. You could sense the excitement in his voice, and you wondered what fueled it - justice, or revenge.

“No, sadly the magic eight ball said try again later on that one,” Foggy lamented with a sorrowful glance at you. “But hey, it’s a start!”

“It is a start,” Matt agreed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Good work, Foggy.”

“I aim to please,” Foggy grinned.

“Listen, I think I’m going to take the day off today, if you don’t mind,” Matt said, gesturing to his injury. 

“Of course,” Foggy said. “Do you need anything?” 

“Just rest, I think,” Matt admitted somewhat regretfully. 

“And m’lady?” Foggy asked you. 

“I’m good,” you promised. 

“Well, while you two relax all day, I’ll be heroically holding down the fort,” he said. “I’ll check into this guy as much as I can, but we may need to look into hiring someone like a PI or something,” Foggy admitted. 

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Matt said, with what seemed to you to be an unrealistic amount of confidence.

“‘Cause we’re the three musketeers,” Foggy grinned.

Matt gave Foggy a lovingly patronizing nod and laughed. Matt walked back over to you, casually sliding an arm around your waist. You were surprised by this, as it seemed like something a couple would do, but it comforted you more than you realized you needed. While you now had a lead, the men that wanted you dead were still out there. Luckily, you had two stunning lawyers to protect you.


	3. Chapter 3

As promised, Foggy went back to the office to hold down the fort should a random client appear out of thin air. You and Matt were left to your own devices. You made breakfast together, and afterwards, you realized something.

“You don’t have a TV, huh?” you noted. “I guess not too much use for one.”

“I used to listen,” Matt said, coming to sit on the couch next to you. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt since Foggy had left, and you hadn't bothered to take his off. “My dad was a boxer, and when I couldn’t go to the fights, which was most of the time, I would listen.”

“Wow a real boxer?” you asked, intrigued. “The closest my parents ever got to TV was being in the background of a news report. Even then they were out of focus,” you laughed.

“He was a big deal,” Matt said fondly. 

You curled up and leaned your head against the couch, bringing your knees to your chest as he talked about his father. 

“He was the toughest man I knew. Got hit a lot, but never stayed down. Always got back up. And that’s what he taught me to do too.”

“Sounds like an awesome dad,” you said softly, not wanting to pull Matt from his reverie.

“He wasn’t perfect,” Matt nodded. “But he was there for me. Made sure I did my homework, gave me everything I needed after the accident.”

He paused. You wanted to ask about it, but didn’t want to make him tell the story for the hundredth time. You waited to see if he would continue. He did.

“I was nine,” he said. You reached for his hand gently, taking it in yours and drawing patterns on it with your finger as he spoke. “There was a man in the street, a car coming. I didn’t think I just ran. I pushed him and… The next thing I remember is being on the ground, my dad’s face hovering over me. The sky was so blue,” he said. “And then it all went dark. And here I am today.”

“Nine years old,” you marveled. “So young.”

Matt shrugged. 

“Nine whole years of sight,” he said. “It’s more than some people get.”

You smiled at this unexpected optimism.

“I bet there are things you don’t miss seeing,” you said. “Like certain people on the subway, doing certain things they should be doing in private.”

Matt chuckled.

“I think hearing them is almost worse,” he shivered.

“Oh god,” you laughed. “It probably is. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my cross to bear,” he chided.

“So… What happened to your dad?” you asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He died,” Matt said softly. “When I was about ten.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed with a sardonic smile. “It was not a walk in the park, as they say.”

“Well, for the record, I think you turned out okay regardless,” you smiled sheepishly.

He turned to you and rolled his hand over in yours to interlace your fingers together.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low, almost sultry.

“Um, how’s your side?” you asked, glancing at the still blood-free wound.

“Should be fine by tomorrow,” he said. “Just a little sore now.”

“You heal fast,” you said. “I get a paper cut and I’m down for the count.” He chuckled.

“I meditate,” he told you. “Speeds it up.”

“Not sure I could turn my mind off,” you frowned. “But I’m glad it works for you.”

“It takes a lot of practice,” Matt agreed. “But it does help.”

“Well good. Because I like you not injured,” you decided. 

“Me too,” he said with a hint of a smile.

You were silent a moment and realized the dishes were still in the sink from breakfast.

“I bet those pots are done soaking now,” you said. “I’ll go wash them. You relax.”

Matt leaned his head back on the couch exposing his neck to you as you stood. You waited for a moment, paused in front of him to examine the lines of his body, and then continued onto the kitchen.

Matt talked to you while you washed, and just as you were finishing up, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind. He kissed the top of your head in a strangely intimate way.

You put down the last dried pot and pressed your hands against his. You were still in his shirt that you’d stolen to cover up when Foggy had come in this morning, and something about it made you feel sexy, like you belonged to him.

You weren’t sure what prompted this embrace, but you didn’t really care. It felt nice, secure, to be held like this. You breathed in and out. 

“There,” he said.

“What?” you asked, eyes closed.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” you realized. “Wow, sneaky meditation,” you smiled. 

“Just showing that it is in fact possible,” Matt smiled as he leaned down to kiss your neck. You nearly shivered at the sensation.

“For that moment anyway,” you smirked.

“Why, what are you thinking about now?” he asked.

You turned to face him and his hands stayed on your hips as you rotated around. You looked up at him, brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen onto his face. You kissed him to show him what you were thinking about, and he responded in kind, pressing himself flush against you, pushing you back against the counter.

You felt your whole body blush at the attention Matt paid your lips with his. His hand curl around the back of your neck, snaking into your hair, and grabbing hold to anchor you to him. His other hand held your hip firmly against him as he grinded his hips against yours, making you dizzy. He took his hand from your hip and slipped them under your borrowed shirt, into your panties. You gasped into his mouth at the sensation, and you could feel him smile into the kiss. He never broke the kiss as he expertly rubbed you, making the pit of your stomach start to tingle. You bit his lower lip carefully as he edged you towards where you wanted to be. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you reach down to tear off his sweatpants. You lowered them enough to expose him, and stroke him a few times to make him even harder. Breaking the kiss only to look behind you at the counter space, you jumped up, sliding your panties off and opening your legs to him. 

Matt felt what you were doing, and took his sweatpants the rest of the way off. He pulled your lips to his as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, biting your earlobe gently. 

“Yes,” you breathed.

And with that, you guided him inside you. You adjusted to him quickly, and used one hand to hold onto his neck, one hand to steady yourself against the counter.

He thrusted into you smoothly, easily at first. Soon enough, you both wanted more and were grasping at each other, moving frantically to fill the space between you. When you climaxed, you breathed his name and various profanities. He came shortly after you and you felt him spill inside you as he panted, your name on his lips.

Breathing hard, you both pulled away. He kissed you gently. It was in stark contrast from the passion you’d both just witnessed, but it was sweet, kind.

You looked at him, his face a flushed mess, his hair wilder than overgrown grass. He was completely naked, and you’d never seen a more perfect man. You cupped his jaw with your hand and he leaned into your touch.

“Well that was…”

“Not so unexpected,” you mirrored your words from the other day.

Matt laughed, his face hung low.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“I really like you, Matt,” you said, as if it wasn’t obvious. “I’m thankful you’re protecting me and everything… But I also just… I’m glad we met.”

“Me too,” he said softly.

You hopped down off the counter and hugged him, feeling his warm, bare chest against your shirt.

“Do you think I could maybe go get some stuff from my apartment today?” you asked. “Otherwise I’m going to have to keep borrowing your stuff,” you smirked.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Matt said. “But we could probably go buy you some stuff. There’s some decent thrift stores around here.”

“Perfect,” you smiled.

Matt followed you into his bedroom and donned some underwear, jeans, and a long sleeved t-shirt. You wondered how often he dressed casually, and found yourself thinking probably not often.

You wore your jeans and borrowed the smallest shirt he had which you still swam in. You grabbed your purse and headed out to the stores. Matt was good enough to come with you, even though he could provide you with no insight as to how you looked in that shirt, or how those jeans fit you. Still, you had enough success that you felt comfortable staying with Matt for the time being and not running out of things to wear.

After, you got lunch at a cafe. You ate your sandwiches and drank some tea.   
“How’s your side?” you asked, wondering if any stitches had ripped during your morning encounter.

“Still sore,” he admitted. “But holding up alright. How’s your cheek?” he asked.

“Good,” you said. “Gonna have a nasty scar though.”

“It’ll give your face character,” Matt decided. “Or, so I’m told.”

Matt’s phone rang, and the voice announced it was Foggy calling.

“Hello,” Matt answered.

You couldn’t hear what Foggy was saying, but it sounded to you, based on Matt’s response, that not much had come of his digging so far. 

“Do you mind staying with (Y/N) tonight while I do some errands?” Matt asked. 

“I’ll go with you,” you offered. 

“No, don’t worry about it, they’re boring errands,” Matt dismissed it quietly. Then, to Foggy, “Great, that’s perfect. Thanks.”

He hung up and paid for your meal. You left and walked back to Matt’s apartment. You slipped your hand into his and caught him smile.

You didn’t ask about his boring errands, as you could tell this was clearly just something he wanted to do alone. You weren’t at that level with him yet, but you found yourself wanting to be. You found yourself drawn to him. He was kind, driven, and somehow, below the surface, mysterious in a way you found extremely attractive.

“Foggy’s coming over with pizza later,” Matt explained as you put your new purchases in a corner of Matt’s bedroom. Was is presumptuous to assume you’d be sleeping together in his bed regularly?

“My hero,” you smiled. “I feel badly,” you admitted. “I feel like you guys are having to babysit me. I mean I’ve been fine so far, maybe I could be alone here while you run your errands.”

While you didn’t like the idea of being alone, you also felt incredibly guilty for making two grown men babysit you.

“It’s not babysitting, it’s body guarding,” Matt said seriously. He walked over to you and cupped your face in his hands. “Just when we lower our guard might be when they come back. We can’t afford to let that happen. I… We can’t lose you.”

You stared up at him, wondering was going on behind those dark red glasses. 

“Besides,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’re our only client.”

You snickered at this and he kissed your forehead before going to the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

The afternoon passed quickly, and soon enough Foggy arrived with the promised pizzas. Matt gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out, and Foggy made sure his eyebrows shot up and his lips twisted into an excited smile. 

“So,” he said, drawing it out and laying the pizzas on the counter. “You and Mattie are looking awfully comfortable these days.”

You rolled your eyes and opened the pizza box. You grabbed a slice, not bothering to pretend like you were going to need to set it down on a plate.

“Shut up,” you said, but couldn’t help smiling. 

Foggy grabbed two beers from the fridge. He opened them and handed one to you.

“Hey, innocent until proven guilty, that’s our code,” he smiled.

“Guilty?” you laughed. “What’s the charge?”

“One that countless girls have succumbed to. You are guilty of falling under the charm of Matt Murdock,” Foggy said, pretending it was a bad thing.

“How many girls, exactly?” you asked, half joking.

“Not many that he invites back again,” Foggy said. 

“I was technically invited, but it’s sort of a guard thing,” you noted. 

Foggy shook his head. 

“Nah. He’s never been with someone the way he is with you. Maybe he forgets I’m not blind, but the way he is around you, even just these past few days. It’s different.”

You blushed, shoving pizza in your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything embarrassing.

“So he’s never had a long term girlfriend before?” you asked. 

Foggy made a face like he was scared of something.   
“None that ended well. Really just the one. Not good news there. I like you better.”

You pondered this for a moment. Really you were just curious at this point. You liked Matt, wanted to know more about him. You realized it was kind of cheating to go through his best friend though.

“For the record, I like you too,” you smiled at him. He held up his beer and you clinked bottles. “So, what would the babysitter recommend we do for this evening’s activities?” you asked.

“Well, if I were actually your babysitter, I’d be a very bad one consider you’re drinking alcohol, and I will allow you to stay up past eight,” he sighed. “But I’ve never excelled at anything, besides hair coiffing, so who am I to start now?”

“Well, if we keep drinking Matt’s beer, he’ll probably kick us out,” you noted. 

“Beer run?” Foggy asked. 

You nodded. The two of you made your way out onto the street in the cold night air. You linked your arm through Foggy’s and he smiled down at you. You walked in amiable silence to the nearest liquor store and walked inside. You were perusing the whiskey while Foggy checked the beers. Finding one to your liking, you went to the counter. The man at the register looked like someone who would be charged with statutory rape on an episode of  _ Law and Order _ . You could feel his eyes on you before you lifted them from your wallet to see.

Anywhere but your face, seemed to be the his favorite places to look, and you shivered slightly. You were used to this, unfortunately, but usually from passersby, not from someone immediately in front of you.

You paid for your whiskey and saw Foggy making his final selections.

“I’ll meet you outside,” you said, pointing discreetly to the creepy man.

“Gotcha,” Foggy said with a frown in the man’s direction.

You took your whiskey and walked outside. The cold air was more welcome than the man’s stare, and you moved to the side of the windows so he couldn’t watch you from inside. 

It was strangely quiet on this street. You imagined most people were getting ready to go to bed for the workday tomorrow and not buying alcohol as you were. Still, you wished Foggy would hurry up.

When you heard the door open, you thought it would be Foggy coming out, but instead it was the man from the cash register. He looked around until he spotted you, and then he smiled. It was more of a teeth baring than it was a smile. You looked around and saw no one. You wanted to scream, but all he had done was smile at you. 

Then he was next to you, his breath smelling of beer and meat. He grabbed your wrist and clamped his hand over your mouth. 

“Back up,” he said. “Into that alley. Quiet like.”

His voice was low, but excited.

You stomped on his foot and tried to break his grasp on your wrist.

“FOGG-” You screamed, but he just pulled you back and whipped out a knife from his back pocket.

“Quiet like,” he whispered.

You searched frantically for Foggy. He must be checking out with another cashier. You struggled again but the knife was at your throat.

He backed you into the alley. Was he going to rape you? Kill you? What could you possibly do to get away?

You were in the dark alley now. Your only hope seemed to be the one very lonely, unused-looking door to the building next to the store. It didn’t seem likely. 

And then you heard something drop, and the knife and the man were gone from your vision.

Standing in front of you now was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Your lungs held no breath. You blinked rapidly, trying to understand. The Devil must have dropped from the fire escape far above you, taking out your attacker. You looked down. He was unconscious on the ground.

“T-thank you,” you managed.

You looked at this man. It was dark in the alley, with only minimal reflection of streetlight to aid your sight. You could barely make out his dark form, barely see the exposed chin and lips. The dark eyes of his mask glinted, though, and had a strange alien quality to them.

“Just doing my job,” he said, in a voice that sounded as though he were forcing it lower.

“Well, I’m not sure you can count it as a job if you don’t get paid,” you argued. Why were you arguing with the man who saved your life? Still, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a strangely familiar way. “Sorry, what I meant to say was, you don’t have to do this, so I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he said. 

“(Y/N)!” you heard Foggy scream from the street. 

You turned your attention to him.

“I should probably go,” you offered. 

The Devil nodded. 

“You probably don’t want to see… or hear what I am going to do to this man to ensure this never happens again,” he said, sounding strangely excited.

You frowned. You weren’t one for cruelty… but he kind of deserved it. Who knew how many other women he actually attacked.

“Probably not,” you admitted. He nodded, and you turned away and basically ran to the street.

“Hey,” you breathed. “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

After telling Foggy your amazing tale, he seemed a little less impressed than you’d anticipated.

“But he  _ saved _ me,” you insisted.

“He saves a lot of people,” Foggy said. “And I’m not saying I’m not glad he saved you, but I sort of should have been the one to do that.”

His shoulders sunk and put his head in his hands. Matt still wasn’t home yet, and it was getting late.

“It was my fault,” you said. “I shouldn’t have left you. It was dumb to go outside.”

He shook his head. 

“I’m just glad he was there, I guess,” Foggy said. “But I’m still mad at myself.”

“Would drinking help?” you asked.

He smiled and nodded. 

You set up his laptop and created a drinking game to  _ Twelve Angry Men _ . By the end of it you were pretty drunk and a little sleepy. You’d moved onto watching  _ Finding Nemo, _ per Foggy’s request, and about halfway through you realized that Foggy was asleep. This might have made you feel unsafe, he was supposed to be protecting you after all, but you really felt like you were in no danger. Matt’s apartment had become a sanctuary of sorts.

You had nearly fallen asleep to the credits of  _ Finding Nemo, _ when Matt came through the door. You stood to greet him, walked half the distance to him, and realized the shadow above his eye was no shadow at all, it was a bruise.

“What happened?” you asked, Foggy’s snores filling in the silence before he responded.

“Ah, nothing,” Matt said calmly. “Just wasn’t paying attention, walked into a door,” he laughed. 

Your eyes scanned him and saw the blood leaking out of his wound.

“Did you also tear your stitches while walking into the door?” you asked skeptically.

Matt frowned and felt the wet patch of his shirt.

“I guess so,” he shrugged.

He walked into his bedroom easily and shed his jacket. He placed his bloody shirt in the sink and turned on the water to let it soak. You followed him into his room, keeping your voice low so as to not wake Foggy.

“Matt… I don’t want to sound insensitive, but I see the way you move around. I find it hard to believe you just walked into a door.”

You held yourself as you spoke to him. He really owed you nothing. He hadn’t known you long, nor had he asked the same amount of openness from you about anything. Still, it felt wrong that he should be lying to you, and you were sure he was. You were still shaken from the events of the evening and you wanted to talk about it, to work through the weird swarm of feelings inside you, but you couldn’t. Not when he was like this. 

Matt sighed and looked down at the floor. He rested a hand against the door frame of the bathroom. He was shirtless now, and the stitches were caked with dried blood.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low and serious. “There are things about me that you can’t know.”

You swallowed, listening to him. He’d never taken this tone with you before and it scared you a little.

“There are things I have to do alone. I can’t risk anyone knowing,” he said. 

“Is it… Illegal?” you asked.

He lifted his head and pursed his lips.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said definitively.

You took a deep breath. Was he in some blind version of fight club or something? Who was he getting beaten by, and who looked worse at the end of it?

“You don’t trust me?” you asked. 

And you couldn’t say you could blame him if he didn’t. You hadn’t known each other for life, but the events that had brought you together, at least for you, had formed a bond that you thought extended past blatant lies.

Matt removed his hand from the door frame and took a step towards you. You didn’t move, but you weren’t sure what he was going to do. He stood very still right in front of you. You looked up at him, and he down at you. He rested his forehead against yours, and let out a long breath.

“If you knew, you’d be in more danger than you already are,” he explained. “And I can’t have that.”

You bit your inner cheek and shifted on your feet.

“You know you’re taking the ‘mysterious guy’ thing a little far?” you tried your best at a joke.

He chuckled.

“Sorry,” he said, and seemed to mean it.

“Do you want me to wake Foggy?” you asked.

Matt kissed your forehead.

“He looks pretty comfortable. We can probably just give him a blanket.”

You chuckled softly and nodded, grabbing an extra blanket and draping it over Foggy. You shut his laptop and shifted him so he was laying down. He just snored a little louder, but didn’t wake up.

Matt was taking a shower when you got back into the bedroom, and you got ready for bed, taking off your pants and bra, diving into bed with just a t-shirt and panties on. Matt emerged from the steamy bathroom with a towel around his waist, and another roughly drying his hair. You watched in awe as he crossed the room to his dresser and dropped the towel, pulling on some boxers. 

He seemed to know you were already in bed, because when he got in, he reached for you. He laid there, facing you. 

“I do,” he whispered softly.

“Hm?” you asked, eyes half closed.

“Trust you,” he said.

Your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

“Oh,” you said, blushing. “I trust you too,” you said. And it was true somehow, despite the limited time you’d spent with him.

“I… got a name,” Matt said after some silence.

“What?” your heart lept.

“Wilson Fisk,” he said quietly.

“Never heard of him.”   
“Me either,” he admitted. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you said. “I know it.”

Matt leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t a passionate, get-things-started kiss, but one full of adoration and longing for closeness.

“Don’t take my sandwich, monkey,” you heard Foggy sleep talk from the living room.

You and Matt both giggled. Matt rolled onto his back and you cuddled up on his chest. You felt safe in Matt’s arms, and you found that was all you needed in the moment. You had been scared to your core earlier, but here, in his arms, it seemed like you’d never be hurt again. You listened to his steady heartbeat, and hoped that whatever he was up to, his heart would keep beating despite it.


	4. Chapter 4

When you woke, it was to two low voices coming from outside the bedroom. You blinked your eyes open and peeked out at the living room. Foggy and Matt were in the kitchen talking quietly, but animatedly. You couldn’t hear what they were saying. You slipped on some clothes and padded over to the kitchen. They had heard you approaching and turned to greet you.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Foggy greeted, lifting his coffee slightly like a toast.

Matt felt for your arm and then guided his lips to your forehead for a good morning kiss.

“Morning,” he said in a low voice.

“You guys are up early,” you noted. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, a little too quickly. “Just thanking Matt for his couch.”

“You looked pretty comfy,” you noted. 

“I was,” Foggy grinned. 

“How about some breakfast?” you asked. “I think we managed to get some groceries when we were out clothes shopping.”

“I could go for an omelette,” Foggy said, pulling up a chair at the kitchen counter.

“Make it three?” you asked Matt. He smiled and nodded, so you began preparations.

When you had sat down for breakfast, and the food cleared the sleep from your mind, you realized Foggy didn’t know the big news.

“Did you tell him yet?” you asked Matt. “About the name.”

“Wilson Fisk,” Foggy said, answering for him. “Never heard of him. Sounds like a chef on Food Network or something.”

“Apparently he’s the key to all this,” Matt said. 

“Oh!” you nearly shouted. “I didn’t even get to tell you what happened last night, what with you coming home, and then the news, and the injuries. Daredevil saved my life,” you said excitedly.

Matt looked less than impressed. He arched an eyebrow and took a bite of his omelet. 

“Really?” he asked. 

Foggy played with his food.

“He just fell out of the sky, dropped right onto this perv,” you said. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten to mention it until now. “I think I owe him my life,” you said seriously.

“Wow,” Matt said, a little more interested. “What happened? Why were you in danger?”

“My fault,” Foggy said grudgingly. “She left and I should have gone with her.”

“It’s fine,” you said, though you felt a shiver run up your spine as you thought back to that knife against your throat. You cleared your throat and tried not to think about it. “It all worked out in the end.”

“Sounds like a good thing he was there,” Matt said. “I’m sorry you had to be in that situation. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, touching his hand with yours. He was dealing with enough with this whole case, he didn’t need to worry about your emotional state as well. You could handle yourself. You saw the doubt on his face and tried to change the subject a bit. “That’s some hero though,” you said. “He didn’t even know me, he just… saved me.”

You reveled in that for a moment. As far as you knew, this man didn’t possess any unworldly powers like Thor, he just saved people using his own skills. Because he could.

“He works outside the law,” Matt lamented.

“That’s what Foggy said,” you smirked. 

“He could get hurt,” Foggy said, pointedly. 

“I think he can take care of himself,” you decided. “I heard those bones cracking. Not the first time he’s done that.”

“You sound almost… proud of the violence,” Foggy said, a little disturbed. You shrugged.

“Creep had it coming, you ask me. Negative reinforcement, he won’t do it again.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Matt said.

“Hey, you know what we should do tonight?” Foggy asked suddenly.

“What?” you asked. 

“We got a lead,” he said. “We should celebrate. Why don’t we take her to Josie’s?”

“Because we like her and don’t want her to know we go to a shitty bar all the time?” Matt smirked.

“She’ll love it, it has character,” Foggy grinned, clasping an excited hand on your shoulder.

“Sounds like fun,” you agreed. “Could be nice to let off some steam.”

Matt shrugged and feigned defeat.

“Alright,” he surrendered. 

After the three of you spent the day milling around the office, having zero success in finding anything about Fisk online, you came back to Matt’s place, got changed, and headed out. During your thrifting, you’d managed to snag a short hemmed dress with a deep neckline that seemed perfect for going out. While Matt couldn’t see you, he could certainly feel your exposed skin when he put his hand on your thigh in the taxi. It was discrete, careful and knowledgeable that Foggy was sitting on his other side, but enough to get your skin tingling at his touch.

You arrived at Josie’s and could tell from the outside what a dive it was. But Foggy had been right. Once you walked inside, you could see the character of the place. A lot of history was held in the walls, in the beer taps, in some of the patron’s wrinkled faces. The lady at the bar nodded knowingly at Foggy as the three of you walked in, and went to work getting a few drinks. Foggy walked over to the pool table, which was currently devoid of players.

“Play a game?” he asked. 

“I don’t know how to play,” you blushed. 

“I can teach you,” Matt smiled, slipping a hand onto the small of your back.

“I’ll get us those drinks so Josie doesn’t chastise me for making her walk all the way over here,” Foggy said good naturedly. 

Once you were alone at the table, Matt felt his way to its edge, finding the pool cue. 

“Are they all ready to break?” he asked.

“Yeah, right in the center,” you answered. 

“Alright, well first things first, you break them.”

You nodded, took the cue from him, and positioned yourself to break the formation. Matt pressed himself behind you, feeling what position your body was in. You got goosebumps as his hand found your lower back, and the other guided the hand that would shoot the cue.

“Like this,” he said, bringing your elbow in closer the your body. His breath was warm on your ear, and you shivered slightly. 

The hand on your back lowered to explore your thigh. The dress was riding up a ways since you were leaning over, and he didn’t have to reach down far. He played with the hem of your dress. 

“I like this dress,” he whispered. 

You turned your face to him, your lips nearly touching. You wanted him to rip the dress off of you, to take you on that table, but you simply brushed your lips lightly against his and smiled. 

“Three beers for the three musketeers,” Foggy said.

You were able to untangle yourself from Matt before Foggy could so much as blush, and happily accepted the beverage.

“So, you ready to play?” Foggy asked. 

You chuckled. 

“I’ll learn as we go,” you offered.

And you did. You had a great time playing with the boys. Matt was flirty, but not so much as to alienate Foggy. He touched you in small, intimate ways, ghosting his hand against yours during Foggy’s turn, or kissing your neck softly when he stood behind you.

After your game and a few more drinks, you settled down in a booth in the back.

“So, what’s our play?” Foggy asked. “We have a name, but no info.”   
“What about your old pal, the devil?” Matt asked.   
“Daredevil?” you asked.

Foggy shook his head.

“Possibly the literal thing,” he muttered. “Marci, my old flame from college.”

“Oo, and old flame,” you teased.

“She creates flames,” Matt said. “And probably locusts.”

“She’s not that bad,” Foggy defended her. “But if anyone would know someone super evil, it’s her.” He sighed, getting up. “Time for a booty call,” he said. Then, turning back, “I hope you appreciate me selling my body for information.”   
“I can see it’s something you’re loath to do,” Matt chided. 

“It’s a good thing I love you crazy kids,” he said, taking one last swig of his beer and heading out with a nod to Josie.

Matt smiled and shook his head. Then he turned to you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered. 

You bit your lip.

“Um, not to be rude but… how do you know?” you asked. 

As much as you admired the compliment, you weren’t sure if he were saying it just because he felt he had to. He chuckled.

“I know your body,” he said, sneaking a hand onto your thigh just below your dress’ hemline. “I know that this dress makes your legs look stunningly long, that your breasts are well displayed in that neckline, and that your heels make the line of your back quite lovely.” You shivered. “And I can hear all the men’s hearts beating faster when you walk by,” he shrugged.

“You cannot,” you hit him playfully. “But thank you,” you kissed his cheek.

“Should we call it a night too?” he asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

“You tired?” you asked. 

“Not at all,” he answered as he leaned in to kiss your neck right below your ear. He nipped at the skin there.

You chuckled and kissed him. 

“Good,” you smirked.

By the time you got to his bedroom, you were both naked. Your clothes didn’t make it past the threshold of the living room. There was something between you that had been awakened now, and you found yourself needing him when he wasn’t close to you. Even after you made love, his smooth hands finding all the right places on your body, your legs wrapped around him, writhing beneath him, you needed him close. He held you, wrapped himself around you, when you were in bed. When you got up, made coffee or breakfast, he was there, checking in with little touches to your lower back or kisses on your neck and temples.

That night you had told him about your distant family, how alone you’d felt in the city until you met him and Foggy. He told you about his childhood, more about his father, and how much he missed him. He told you about his relationship with the church and the struggles he still had there. You told him about your life and answered whatever questions he had.

He was running his fingers through your hair after all of this, when he stopped suddenly.

“You should dye your hair,” he said seriously.

“Matt, I don’t--”

“You should maybe cut it too. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. Fisk’s men are probably looking for someone fitting your description. They may even have a photo of you from your security badge from your work, or social media. We should at least take some preventative measures,” he reasoned.

You bit your lip. He was right.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Maybe some makeup or something too.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Matt said. “Anything to make you look different. Anything to give them pause, give you that extra second to get out of there if it comes to that.”

You nodded, running your hand through your long hair.

“And here I wanted to grow it out,” you sighed. 

“Sorry,” Matt said. 

“I guess to stay alive it’s worth it,” you tried to joke. It fell flat. Sometimes with Matt, you forgot that you were with him because your life was in danger.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matt asked seriously. “I mean after what happened outside the liquor store. It’s okay if you’re not. I’m here for you.”

You swallowed hard. You were still seeing that creep’s face sometimes when you closed his eyes, and you’d jumped awake from a nightmare the past night. You could see the concern on Matt’s face, but you didn’t want him to worry about you like that. He had his secrets to protect you, so you wanted to protect him too, from this mess inside you.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, kissing his cheek. I will be fine.”

You went to the drug store with Matt the next morning and bought cheap hair dye and some makeup. You didn’t look so bad in the new shade, and your makeup definitely helped give you a different look than most photos you had of yourself.

You got back and caught your reflection in the window of the living room. You sighed. You almost didn’t recognize yourself. Matt wrapped himself around you from behind and held you.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, kissing your neck. “We’ll figure it out and then everything can go back to normal for you.”

You laughed.

“I doubt I’ll ever be normal after this,” you noted.

“Well, it’s all relative,” Matt tried. 

“I’m glad it happened though,” you said. “Because it means I met you.”

“And that’s worth risking your life for?” Matt asked.

You kissed him and felt the sensations you’d never felt with anyone before.

“I think so,” you said. His lips showed the echo of a smile, but he seemed to be thinking about something else. “You okay?” you asked.

He shook his head as if to clear it and nodded. 

“Yes,” he smiled at you. “Very okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

Matt’s phone woke you up the next morning as it seemingly screamed Foggy’s name. You grumbled and hid your face against Matt’s chest. He chuckled and reached over you to get his phone. He answered.

“Morning, lovebird,” Matt teased. You heard a muffled angry response on the other end. “Yeah, meet you there in an hour.”

He hung up, but didn’t show any signs of wanting to get up.

“Good night for Foggy?” you asked.

“It was interesting to say the least,” Matt answered. “According to him. We’re meeting him for breakfast to discuss the details.”

“That means we have to get out of bed,” you sighed. Matt kissed your forehead.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he admitted.

“I like this bed,” you said. “It’s soft and warm. And you’re here.”

“All of those things are true,” Matt agreed. “But we do kind of need to figure out who’s trying to kill you.”

“This bed never tried to kill me,” you complimented it. Matt laughed.

You finally got up and took a shower. Matt joined you about halfway through and it took a little longer than you’d planned to get ready because of it. You managed to make it to the little cafe on time, however, and found Foggy waiting at a table with two coffee’s waiting for you.

“So,” he said, by way of greeting. He looked surprisingly good despite an apparently interesting evening.

“So,” Matt smiled. “What do you have to share with the class?”

Foggy sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. 

“It wasn’t a long conversation,” he admitted, blushing slightly. “But she does know of him. She couldn’t tell me in so many words, but what I gather is that he is a very big client at her firm. They are all firm and snuggly in his pocket.”

“But she volunteered information?” Matt asked, suspicious.

“She’s not really so evil,” Foggy said. “Honestly. I thought so too, but I was able to remind her that maybe she doesn’t have to be a completely soulless moneyhound.”

“And she went for that?” Matt asked.

“She went for… a lot of things,” Foggy smirked. “And that was one of them, yes.”

“So what else did she say?” You asked.

“She said she’d look around discretely today and see if she could find anything useful. We’re supposed to meet for dinner tonight.”

“I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Howard tonight,” Matt frowned.

“Our office landlord?” Foggy asked. “Why?

“He seems to think we should be paying him rent,” Matt said. “I’m hoping I can get an extension.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Foggy asked. 

“No, I think I can figure it out. Why doesn’t (Y/N) tag along with you, maybe keep things a little more on track than they might if it was just the two of you?”

Foggy nodded.

“Supervision. Good idea.”

Matt and Foggy passed the day trying to come up with a plan to pay the rent for their office. You offered to help out with what you could, but they wouldn’t accept your money. 

When Matt left, you got ready for dinner with Foggy. You were going to some small, cheap, Italian place, so you just wore some jeans and a nice shirt. Foggy wore a shirt and tie, and you teased him for dressing up.

Marci was there when you arrived, and you saw her face drop when she saw that Foggy was not alone. Clearly he hadn’t informed her this wasn’t a date. She resumed a face of neutrality before she spoke to you, however. Foggy introduced you and she was at least civil. 

You could tell how attracted to her Foggy was, but not in the way you’d expected. While he might have been bumbling and shy with some women, he was confident and assertive with her in a way you’d never seen before. 

By the end of the night, after a lot of gag-worthy flirting between the two of them, and interference from you to keep the conversation on track, you had gotten some useful information.

Marci informed you that Fisk often visited an art gallery downtown. If you wanted to find him, this might be the place to start. She told you a little about his persona, but not much that was going to help you take him down. You could tell she regretted being a rat, but Foggy’s encouragements seemed to be enough to keep her going.

By the end of the night, you were tired of trying to stop them from playing footsies under the table and making googly eyes at each other, and you told Foggy to make his gross goodbyes as you called a cab a little ways down the street.

He was hesitant to turn his back on you, but the street was well-lit and well-populated, and he was only going to “say goodbye” to Marci for a few minutes. You had no intention of watching them play tonsil hockey, and you went to pull up info for taxis to call.

You wandered as you searched, and stopped by an alley to decide on a taxi, when you heard your name. It was so quiet and so directed that you thought you might have imagined it. However, when you turned to look down the alleyway, you saw a pair of black eyes peering back at you. You knew those eyes. They were the Devil’s eyes.

Cautiously, you made your way into the alley. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, marveling at his costume once more.

“Just wanted to check on you,” he answered. “Make sure everything was okay, that that creep didn’t try anything again.”   
“Could he if he wanted to?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” the Devil said. “He won’t be walking for a while.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line, unwilling to smile at the pain of another person, but still wanting to.

“So, you’re okay?” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You glanced back out at the street. No one had noticed you yet, you seemed to be hidden enough in the shadows.

“An event like that would shake anyone. Have you talked about it with anyone?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I mean… There’s this one guy… but I don’t want to bother him with it.”

He took a moment and pressed his lips together.

“Why? I’m sure, if you’re friends, or whatever you are, he wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s got a lot going on,” you informed him. “And… I don’t know what we are. I don’t know how much he wants to know.”

He nodded, considering this. 

“Well, you should try to talk to him. Otherwise… Things don’t turn out well when you internalize. Trust me.”

You nodded. 

“I’ll try,” you said. “What are you, some kind of therapist now?” you jested.

“I just want you to be safe,” he said. Whether he meant physically or emotionally or both, you weren’t sure, but you felt the sentiment and appreciated it. You put your hand on his arm and felt the cold leather. 

You were about to respond when you heard someone from the street yell, “Hey!”

You turned quickly, and saw a flash of a camera phone go off. The kid, maybe fourteen, ran away, giggling with joy. The event had caught the attention of some passersby, and you realized you both needed to go.

“I’ll see you around,” Daredevil said, before vaulting up from a dumpster onto a fire escape and up onto a roof.

You walked quickly, avoiding the stares of several people, before finding Foggy. His face was flushed and he didn’t seem to notice that you’d been gone so long.   
“Ready?” you asked. He nodded, and you relayed what had happened.

“So the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is like your own personal therapist, huh?” he asked.

“That’s what I said!” you laughed.

“How sweet,” Foggy smiled. Then, after some silence, “You are… doing okay though?” he asked. “I didn’t want to ask before because it seemed too recent… But it must have been terrifying.”

“It was,” you admitted. “It messed me up.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked. 

“Thanks,” you said. “But not right now.”

You were starting to really love Foggy, but he wasn’t the one you wanted to hold you while you talked about your feelings.

“Do you think that kid got anything usable?” he asked.

“Beats me,” you shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“I think you look different enough that it won’t matter,” he said. “Plus, it’s not like it was taken at Matt’s apartment. They wouldn’t know where you were because of it. Just that you dyed your hair. And we can do that again.”

“Fair points,” you nodded.

You made it back home and found Matt on his laptop at the kitchen table, working.

“Good dinner?” he asked, when he heard you come in.

“Informative,” you decided, settling down in the chair next to his.

“Guess our evil genius like art,” Foggy shrugged. “Who would have guessed.”

“We’ll have to make some kind of plan for approach,” Matt decided. 

“Oh, and (Y/N)’s probably going to be front page on the tabloids,” Foggy smirked.

Matt’s eyebrow arched.

“Daredevil sort of… checked up on me and this kid caught a picture of it.”   
“He checked up on you?” Matt asked. “Why?”

You tucked your hair behind your ear nervously. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “He just wanted to see if I was okay.”

Matt’s hand found yours and you understood with the little squeeze he gave you, that you’d talk more about this later.

“Well, I for one am beat,” Foggy declared. “Flirting, even while done by a master such as myself, is a high energy thing. I need to refuel.”

“Go get some sleep,” Matt nodded. “We’ll figure out a plan tomorrow.”

Foggy saluted and made his goodbyes, leaving you and Matt alone.

“So,” he said. “Maybe the Devil was right. Maybe we should talk more about what happened?” Matt asked.

He was cautious, respectful, but you could tell he wanted to know, that he cared about you.

You walked over to the bed, pulling him along with you. As you undressed, you talked about everything you’d felt during and since the attack. It was hard, but you opened up. You explained how terrified you were of being violated, of being killed. You told him how you didn’t feel safe alone, that sometimes you flashed back to it for no reason and you had to get your breathing back to normal before you could take another step. 

“I can’t do this alone,” you said finally. “But I feel bad asking you to be the one that has to be there for me. I mean, we barely know each other.”   
“I wouldn’t say that’s true,” Matt countered. “I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

You blushed, having felt the same way but not wanting to admit it for some reason.

“So you don’t… mind.”

“No, of course not,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “God, no.”

You nestled into his chest and sighed.

“Thank you,” you said. “I feel safe with you. All the time. So thank you.”

He made a sound that almost sounded like exasperation, like he was sad you hadn’t felt safe with other people before.

“I’m here,” was all he said in response. “Always.”

He nuzzled into your neck, gently kissing the skin that his stubble scratched.

“We’re close to figuring this out,” Matt whispered. “Fisk is the key to it. The key to the danger around you. We take him down, we make you safe.”

“You make it sound so easy,” you laughed. Matt shrugged.

“It seems easy when I know what I have is worth fighting for,” Matt said. 

“What… do you have?” you asked tentatively. “I mean are we… is this…”

You drifted off, unsure what to ask him. You’d been together for only a few days in a highly stressful situation. Who was to say that what was between you wouldn’t dissipate with the danger?

“I would like this to be a thing,” Matt said. Then, pulling away so you could look at the sincerity of his face he continued. “I’ve had… bad nights,” he said. “ The kind where you think you've seen the bottom of humanity, and the pit just keeps getting deeper, you know?” You nodded, you did know. “I can't I can't do this alone,” he said. “And I don’t think you should either.”

“I don’t want to,” you said, stepping closer.

You brushed your lips against his tentatively. He was warm, inviting, safe. He seemed like the safest place in the world despite the small part of you that suspected something dark was within him.

You kissed him fully then, taking him in, feeling the passion with which he kissed you back. You made love then, him above you, face buried in your neck, you clutching on helplessly to him.

When you were finished, you lay on your side, Matt wrapped around you. You knew you’d think of a plan tomorrow with the boys that would help you figure this whole thing out. Fisk was the key. If you could take him down, figure out a way at least to bargain with him, you might be okay. Still, what would that mean for you and Matt? Would he still want to be with you if he didn’t have to protect you?

You tried to think about these things, but instead fell asleep in Matt’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

It was Saturday morning, and sunny in Hell’s Kitchen. Foggy Nelson sat on a chair facing Matt’s couch, his hands pressed together, as if in prayer, elbows on his knees, eyebrows scrunched. Matt sat openly in the couch, biting his lower lip. You laid on the couch, your head in Matt’s lap. He was absently playing with your hair. 

You’d given up sitting normally after the first hour. This was much more comfortable (not to mention the heavenly feeling of Matt’s fingers on your scalp), and it helped you think better.

None of you had been able to come up with a reasonable plan to approach Fisk. You knew it had to be the art gallery, as you didn’t know where else he frequented, yet and he would undoubtedly notice you if you simply surveilled and followed him. The weekend wasn’t the time to do it, was all you had decided. Too many people off work, too busy for Fisk. He was more likely to go during the weekday.

“I could go,” Foggy said. “I could say I was interested in buying some art and try to strike up a conversation?”

“What do you know about art?” Matt asked. 

Foggy’s face fell.

“That it’s… That you… Fair point,” he nodded. 

“Well I can’t really go in there,” Matt said. “I mean, I know some things about art, but why would a blind man go into an art gallery?”

“To buy something for his girlfriend?” you asked, blushing slightly. “Maybe she doesn’t appreciate the bare walls?”

You were speaking of the character Matt would play of course, but you couldn’t help but hope that one day he would think of you as such and would want to make you happy in a similar way.

“There’s an angle,” Foggy said, straightening up in his chair. 

“No, I don’t want you involved,” Matt said to you. “Plus, your picture’s on the tabloids with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

It was true. You’d awoken this morning to see a blurry picture of you and Daredevil in the alley. If you didn’t really  _ really _ know your face, you wouldn’t have been able to tell it was you. Your hair was different, after all, and the photo was so blurry and grainy, it was almost impossible to make out definite features. 

“I doubt Fisk reads tabloids,” you said. “None of the legit papers thought it was a real photo.”

“I’m sure he reads everything,” Matt said. 

“You really can’t recognize her,” Foggy said. “I mean, I can because I know it was her, but if you asked a random person to pick her out of a lineup based on the photo, I’m not sure they could do it.”

Matt frowned. 

“It’ll help you sell the idea that you’re buying something for me,” you offer. “I’ll let you do all the talking, how’s that?”

Matt considered this for a moment, and then his hand stilled in your hair.

“Are you sure you want to do this? To face the man who wants you dead?”

You swallowed hard. You hadn’t thought about it directly like that. But yes, if Matt was going to go near him, you didn’t want him to go alone.

“Yes,” you said. “In fact, I won’t let you go without me.”

The corner of Matt’s lips turned upwards.. 

“And say we engage Mr. Fisk in some art talk,” Foggy said. “What then? Invite him over for dinner and a movie?”

“Just plant some seeds,” Matt answered. “Feel him out, see if he reveals anything useful about himself.”

Foggy nodded. 

“It’s a start anyway,” he said.

“Well, we can’t do anything until Monday,” Matt said. “So we have the rest of the day and tomorrow to figure out exactly what to say.”

Foggy got up and wiped his hands down his face. 

“So we just sit and do nothing?” he asked, exasperated. 

“Yeah,” Matt sighed. “I guess so.”

“Well, I’m going to go get a massage then,” he decided. “This has got my solar plexus in a complete knot.”

You chuckled. 

“You laugh, but I suffer,” he said, picking up his jacket. “I’ll catch you kids tomorrow. Let me know if anything happens.”

Foggy leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, which you found incredibly endearing, before leaving the apartment. 

“My, my, a whole two days to do nothing,” you smiled at Matt. “What shall we do?”

He shifted, almost nervously, and chuckled.

“Well, actually,” he said, pausing as if he weren’t sure what he should say next. “I was wondering… if you wanted to go on a date.”

“A date?” you repeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “An actual date.”

You pondered this for a moment. You’d slept with the man, shared his apartment for days. It almost felt like you were doing this all backwards.

“We don’t have to, I…” Matt stumbled, uncharacteristically insecure. 

“No!” you cut in. “Sorry, it just threw me because we already… We’re already so… Anyway, yes, yeah, I’d love to,” you laughed at your own stumbling.

Matt nodded and laughed.

“Good,” he said, almost to himself.

“And where would we go for this date?” you asked, sliding up closer to him on the couch. You had sat up and draped your legs over his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Really the only safe place is Josie’s,” Matt lamented. “I don’t want to risk being out elsewhere. Is that alright?”

“That’s perfect,” you smiled, kissing his cheek.

It seemed sweet that he wanted to take you out, to make an effort in the doom and gloom that had become your life. You wondered what he was like when you didn’t have a target on your back. You got lost imagining a life when this was all over. You would go out and see concerts, eat dinners at places you couldn’t afford, maybe have a picnic in the park in the summer. You’d make love in the mornings and help him navigate new places in the evenings.

“You’re quiet,” he whispered after a long time. “You okay?”

You smiled, biting your lip.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think so. Just thinking about when this is all over.”

He stiffened for a moment, and you wondered why.

“Just thinking that it’ll be nice to be able to go where we want,” you said. “Do what we want.”

He seemed to relax, and you wondered if he thought you had envisioned your life without him in this future. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

“That will be nice,” he said, turning to face you. “I want to be able to take you places, show you off… If you don’t mind,” he blushed. 

“I hardly think you need me to bring attention to yourself,” you laughed. “Have you seen the way women react to you? Men too, I might add.” Then, you both laughed, realizing your mistake.

“No, I haven’t,” he laughed. “But apparently it’s positive.”

You nodded. 

“I clocked a few blondes who would have gladly taken my place at the pool table that night,” you teased. And it was true, you’d felt their jealous stares.

“I’m sure I had a few eyes on my back wishing they were me as well,” he said, and he meant it. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world when I’m with you.”

You brushed your hand through his hair, and he leaned into your touch. He took off his glasses, which he’d worn for Foggy’s sake, and closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and exposed his neck. He looked so at peace, and you kept your hand running through his hair.

He was wearing a blue zipped up hoodie, and sweatpants. You took the hand that wasn’t occupied in his hair and unzipped his sweatshirt, revealing his torso. His chest could have been carved from marble, but you saw him breathing. His wound was healing nicely, you noted, despite your frequent activities together that were not so good for the stitches. You ran your hand along his chest, and he sighed contentedly.

You moved your hand slowly down his chest, under the band of his sweatpants. He inhaled sharply as you touched him, and bit his lower lip. You stroked him slowly, feeling him growing harder and harder as you went. He helped you push his sweatpants down and release him. His breath was ragged soon, and he was fully erect. You started to kiss down his chest, and eventually replaced your hand with your mouth. It was a challenge, but you managed, and began bobbing your head. It was his turn to thread his hands through your hair. He pulled slightly, his grip tight, encouraging.

It didn’t take long until he was writhing beneath you, and when he came, you took it all, swallowing and licking the rest away. He was like liquid, his hand relaxed from your hair and fell to his side, head lolling back against the couch. You sat up and smiled at your work. You felt good just making him feel good. You didn’t really expect anything back, but he suddenly snapped his head up, searched for your face with his hands, and kissed you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided you until you were laying down on the couch. His tongue was in your mouth, tasting you, and then it left. He trailed down your neck, kissing sensitive spots and sucking there, hard enough that you wondered if he’d make a mark, wondering if you even cared.

His hands caressed your sides, coming to your own sweatpants and tugging them down. You arched your hips to assist, and he slid them completely off. 

When you were bare, he spread your legs, and you held onto the side of the couch with one hand, fisting the other in his hair as he went down on you.

He was vigorous, as if fueled by the pleasure you’d given him. He sucked and licked until you were writhing beneath him, powerless. You watched him, focused, until you had to close your eyes as he swept you away. You unraveled beneath him, and when you had let out your last scream of pleasure, he pulled away. 

You were limp on the couch and closed your eyes until you felt him scoop you up easily, bridal style, and bring you into the bedroom. He laid you gently down on the bed and kissed you. 

He rolled over you and onto his back, laying beside you. He had shed his sweatpants and wore only his briefs. You watched him breathe deeply in and out, his hands behind his head, his chest muscled and perfect.

“I could get used to this,” Matt sighed happily.

“Me too,” you laughed. 

And you meant it. Not just the sex, although that was nice, but the companionship, the easiness that flowed between you. Even though at times it felt like he was holding something back, you still felt connected to Matt in a way you didn’t understand.

You spent the rest of the day brainstorming and practicing what you were going to say to Fisk when you saw him in the art gallery. Matt explained that his plan was have Fisk explain a piece of art to him that you liked in order to convince him to buy it. While neither of you had the funds to buy anything there, as long as you convinced him you’d think about the purchase, the plan should work well enough.

When you had gone over your plan again and again, and told Foggy, you go to relax for the rest of the night Sunday. That night, you lay in bed with Matt, his bare chest against your bare back. His kisses sprinkled the skin of your neck. 

“Are you definitely sure about tomorrow?” he asked for the hundredth time.

“Yes,” you said, slightly annoyed. 

“Just making sure,” he said. “You are risking your life, you know.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you shrugged. “Not with you there.”

Matt sighed and hugged you closer. 

While it didn’t necessarily seem dangerous right now, you were sure you’d be nervous as all hell tomorrow when the time came to face the man. Luckily, you wouldn’t be alone.


	7. Chapter 7

When you woke, for a few blissful seconds, you were unaware of what was going to happen today. You could pretend, in those few seconds, that you had met Matt naturally, had come to know him, like him, and live with him organically. Only when you started to wake up more did you remember why you were here, and how you’d gotten here. Today was the day you were going to face that reason head on.

An art gallery seemed a strange place to do it. With all the violence and anger, you would have thought the sewers or a junkyard would have been a more fitting place.

However, as you dressed and went over the plan again, you found yourself grateful that it wasn’t a place you’d feel completely uncomfortable in. Art had always interested you, even if you didn’t always understand it.

Matt dressed up, and you did as well. You didn’t know what Fisk looked like, but you were guessing whoever the owner paid the most attention to was a likely candidate. Therefore, you spent a good amount of the afternoon just walking past the gallery, casually peering in the windowed front to see if anyone stood out.

Finally, you saw a bald man enter, and the owner, a small woman, greeted him enthusiastically. She talked with him for a long time, ignoring the other customers who obviously wanted her attention.

When you were sure, you entered the art gallery. The owner approached you.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a little unsure why a blind man was walking into her gallery.

“We’re looking to purchase some art,” Matt volunteered. 

The bald man’s head swiveled to casually look in your direction. You felt, rather than saw, his eyes graze over your body, but not in the way you’d expected. It wasn’t like most men’s stares on you. You didn’t feel objectified, rather, something else.

You cast a fleeting glance in his direction, and he moved his gaze away, as if embarrassed. You wondered if perhaps the girlfriend angle with Matt wasn’t the best move anymore. If Fisk showed interest in you, maybe you should be free to play with that, improvise. You could tell Matt was about to say the line about how his girlfriend wanted the apartment less bare, but you cut in before he could.

“My brother’s apartment is so dull,” you complained. “I stay with him all the time and I have nothing to look at when I wake up in the morning.”

Matt cleared his throat, clearly annoyed, but unable to do anything about it. 

“What can I say?” he asked, gesturing to the cane.

“Well, is there something specific you’re looking for?” the owner asked. 

You looked around the gallery, pretending to consider her question. You let your eyes fall naturally on the bald man. 

“What would you recommend?” you asked quietly. 

The man looked behind him, as if wondering if you were indeed talking to him. He looked incredibly nervous, and when he spoke, it seemed like a hushed tone, someone used to being quiet a lot.

“Me?” he asked. “Why would you want my opinion?”

You left Matt’s side to walk over to the man. You felt Matt stiffen as you left him, and knew he’d be furious with the risks you were taking.

“My sister forgets herself,” Matt offered, taking hold of your arm and giving it a tight squeeze. “Let the man shop on his own.”

You shook him off and took another step towards Fisk.

“I saw you admiring that painting,” you said, pointing to what basically looked like a white canvas. “The way you look at things… I can tell you feel things deeply, and you would be the perfect person to help me.”

You looked at him with what you hoped looked like sincerity. He blushed a bit, and looked down at his toes.    
“Men aren’t supposed to  _ feel _ things,” he said gruffly. “But yes, I suppose I do.”   
It was a strangely intimate moment, and you took it as a good sign. You offered him your arm, and he took it. Your stomach dropped, as you realized the danger you were putting yourself in. You dared not look back at Matt.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, I would love your opinion about some of these,” you said. 

“Uh, sure,” he stuttered, and led you to the first painting in the gallery.

You could nearly feel the heat of Matt’s anger pulsating against your back as you walked deeper into the gallery with Fisk. 

You tried your best to be charming and engaging with Fisk as he talked to you about the paintings you were seeing.

“Does your brother have a budget?” he asked, looking at a particularly high price.

For a moment you forgot that you’d switched plans, but you stopped yourself from asking  _ what brother? _ And simply told him no.

When you’d made your way around the entire gallery, you found Matt trying to be casual and talking to the owner. His attention turned toward you the minute you would have been in his sight. 

“Thank you for showing me around, Mr… I’m sorry, we spent all this time together and I didn’t catch your name.”

Fisk flinched, as if this were almost a rude question.

“Wilson,” he responded finally, so quietly you barely heard him. 

“Wilson,” you repeated just as quietly, and gave him your name. 

He smiled at you, and you swore it had at least some amount of kindness in it. 

“I… I would love to see you here again sometime, maybe when you decide what to purchase?”

“That would be nice,” you smiled, hoping it didn’t look too forced. 

“The owner knows how to reach me,” he said. “Have her give me a call the next time you’re stopping by here.”

“Will do,” you said, boldly lifting yourself up on the balls of your feet to give him a kiss on the cheek before winking and turning to saunter back over to Matt.

“Ready?” he asked through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, I need to think what would look best at your place,” you pretended to ruminate.

“Right,” Matt mutter, taking your arm in his a little too roughly. 

“Goodbye,” you waved to Fisk as you left the building.

Matt was silent as you walked, and you were just waiting for him to explode suddenly. However, he made it all the way back to his apartment until the outburst happened. It was worse than you were expecting.

“How could you do something so  _ stupid _ ?” he exclaimed, throwing his cane across the room. You flinched as it hit the wall. Matt was breathing heavily, his neck muscles straining. 

“I improvised,” you defended yourself. “He wasn’t going to talk to you.”

“You put yourself in direct danger,” Matt raged. He wasn’t facing you, rather the window. “You’ll have to see him again, this time alone, or it’ll be suspicious. And I won’t be there to protect you.”   
“Maybe I don’t need protecting,” you offered angrily. “Maybe I can take care of myself.”   
“Yeah, that’s why you were totally fine and didn’t need any help when you were arrested and almost killed,” Matt spat. 

You gawked at him. You thought he had at least some respect for your ability to handle yourself.

“Well, it’s too late now anyway,” you said. “He’s expecting to see me again. I can gain his trust, get him to reveal something, and we can get him.”

“And what happens if he’s onto you?” Matt asked, turning to face you. “What happens when you’re all alone with him, and he decides you’re a risk to his business?”

You gulped. He had a point.

“I’ll figure it out,” you lied. “I’ll have an escape plan at all times.”

Matt ran his hand through his hair and laughed dryly.

“You don’t  _ get  _ it, do you?” he asked. You wondered where all this anger was coming from. “You could  _ die,” _ he said, as if to a child.

“I know the risk,” you said. “I’m not afraid.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m not letting you risk your life.”

“It’s my choice!” you cried. “Why won’t you just back me up on this?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you!” he nearly screamed back.

You stopped. Everything went deathly silent. You’d been thinking that your life was your choice to endanger, and it was, but now the anger made sense. Now you could see that Matt truly did care for you, that your loss would not only be your own.

You sighed, almost ready to concede, to tell him that he was right, you didn’t want to put either of you through this. If it were him in your position, you’d tell him to run for the hills too.

But you were still angry. You were angry that he thought he could control what you did, that he had a say in your choices concerning your own life. 

“You can’t play God, Matt,” you said quietly. “You mean a lot to me, but you have to learn that I make my own choices.”

You gathered up your purse and jacket, and texted Foggy. 

“I’m going to stay with Foggy tonight, okay? Just to… clear my head.”

Matt’s head dropped and he sighed. He looked like he was about to speak, to possibly apologize, but he didn’t.

You left and waited in the hallway for Foggy to come pick you up. Your chest felt heavy, and you felt your phone buzzing, no doubt because Matt was trying to reach you. You ignored it, however, and walked silently with Foggy down the street.

“So,” he said, after he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Trouble in paradise?”

You scoffed. Being with Matt in a life-threatening situation was hardly paradise to begin with.

“I guess you could say that,” you muttered.

“Dr. Foggy is willing to listen. I even have a very comfortable couch, and an outrageous hourly fee,” he grinned. You’d arrived at his place and he opened the door for you.

The apartment was small, typical of a one bedroom place in New York. Foggy’s clothes were strewn about, empty beer bottles and fast food containers were littering the kitchen. Still, it was homey, and warm, and you felt safe. You dumped your purse and jacket on the kitchen table and collapsed onto the couch. Foggy sat across from you in an armchair. 

“This is where I would whip out a notepad and take notes… If I had a notepad,” Foggy smirked. “But really, what’s up with you two? I thought you were… you know… simpatico.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands.

“We were. We are? I don’t know. He just… I can make my own decisions, you know? Not everything has to involve him.”

Foggy scoffed. 

“You obviously haven’t known Matt long,” he said. “But he cares. And that counts for something.”

“You care,” you pointed out. “And you’re not micromanaging me.”

“It’s different,” Foggy sighed. 

“How?”

“Well, as much as I may jest, and I do love you, I’m not  _ in love _ with you… He is.”

You dropped your hands from your face and turned to him, alarmed. You’d known Matt for about a week. How could he love you already? You were just getting to know each other.

Foggy saw the surprise on your face. 

“I thought it was obvious,” he said. 

“I mean, I knew he liked me. I like him,” you said slowly. “But how do you--”

“I’ve seen it before. He falls fast and hard. I know it when I see it.”

You stared at the floor. Your heart was beating fast, and you felt like running back to Matt. Still, he hadn’t trusted you with your own choices about your life, and you were still mad about that.

Your phone rang suddenly. You looked at it, expecting to see Matt’s name, but you didn’t recognize the number. 

“Hello?” you answered.

“(Y/N)?” A male voice said.

“Y-yes,” you answered tentatively.

“I have someone who wishes to speak to you.”

The phone shifted hands, and suddenly a male voice spoke.

“Thank you, Wesley,” you heard spoken far away from the phone. “Hello,” a man said. “It’s Wilson.”

You were stunned. How had he gotten your cell phone?

“I was wondering if you would have dinner with me.”


	8. Chapter 8

“What?” you blurted out. Foggy looked at you, confused to see terror on your features.

Fisk cleared his throat. 

“Um, dinner… With me this evening.”

You tried to recover from your shock. You’d been expecting Matt’s call, not his.

“Oh,” you forced a laugh. “Yes, I’m sorry. My mind was on other things. Yes, where should I meet you?” you asked.

“If you give me the address you’re staying at, I can send a car,” he said. 

He may have your phone number, but at least he didn’t know where you were staying.

“No need,” you said smoothly. “I can meet you wherever you’d like.”

There was a pause, as Fisk clearly attempted to control his response.

“Very well. I will have Wesley text you the address.”

“I’m… looking forward to it,” you lied convincingly.

“I am as well,” he said in a low voice. 

You made your goodbyes, and hung up. Foggy had stood up, realizing what was happening.

“I have a date,” you said seriously.

“My guess is he’s not our mutual friend?” Foggy asked.

You shook your head. 

“A bit more dangerous,” you winced. 

Foggy let out a long breath and ran his hands through his hair as he walked in a small circle.

“Alright, well we can get you out of this without looking too suspicious. We can find a way to--”

“A way out?” you asked. “No, I’m going in, I just want to be protected.”

Foggy paused and dropped his hand.    
“You want to go through with this?” he asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yes,” you conceded. “But it’s also the only way to get him off my back, and in jail.”

“Is this why you came here?” Foggy asked. He wasn’t accusing you, just asking. “Matt said no.”

“Matt thinks he knows what’s best for me,” you said. “He didn’t even think about it.”

“Well, I sort of explained that part already,” Foggy murmured. “We should tell him about the date.”

You bit your lip. It felt like conceding defeat somehow.

“I think I should get a gun,” you said. 

Foggy whipped his head from his phone to your face. 

“What?” he asked, exasperated. “Do you even know how to shoot one?”

You shrugged.

“How hard could it be?”

“They’ll search you,” he said. 

You frowned. He wasn’t wrong there. 

“How small do they sell guns?” you asked. “If I strapped it to my leg… I mean I doubt even Fisk’s people would dare pat me down there. Especially if I make a fuss.”

Foggy frowned. 

“And what if they do?”

“I’ll just say I always carry it. I’m a woman living alone in New York after all.”

Foggy nodded slowly. 

“I know a place,” he said. “But  _ I’ll _ go get it. You stay here and… I don’t know… Think of conversation starters for sociopaths.”

You almost laughed, but found it lodged in your throat behind the fear.

Foggy left you to go buy the gun, leaving you alone in the apartment. You laid on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Your phone buzzed again and you jumped. It was the text telling you where to meet Fisk. It was uptown, at an insanely nice restaurant. You had a few hours until you had to go. You hadn’t brought any other clothes, so when Foggy got back and showed you the little gun, you went back out with him to find a dress and a strap for your new gun.

It made you walk a little funny at first, but you adjusted the gun around your upper thigh so it didn’t draw any attention moving or still. You practiced pulling it out, and succeeded in at least somewhat quickly aiming it. You could only hope that if you had to pull the trigger, you’d get lucky.

Foggy walked with you to the subway station, and even rode with you most of the way to the restaurant. You didn’t want him mixed up in this, and made him get off a stop early, just in case Fisk’s people were around the exit and the building. You made your way to the restaurant, which was on the top floor of a very tall building. 

You were searched, but as you had predicted, they went no higher than your knees when you cast them a look of disdain. 

You were shown into what you assumed would be a busy restaurant, but instead it was nearly silent. Faint jazz music played quietly, and a bartender and a waiter were the only other people besides Fisk in the enormous floor.

The city lights sparkled outside the floor to ceiling windows, and each white table was bare save for the one Fisk sat at. He rose when he saw you, his eyes wandering down your form before he met your gaze. He waited as you walked over, careful to walk as normally as you could. Even if you could pull your gun in time, you’d forgotten how big this man was. If you didn’t get a head shot, it’d be like shooting a BB gun at a polar bear.

Putting on what you hoped was a seductive smile, you laid your hand in his waiting hand and he kissed it.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, pulling your chair out for you.

“Thank you for the invitation,” you said. “And… for the incredible arrangements.”

You’d never been one for luxury, but this was undeniably special.

“I wanted to go somewhere nice, but so would have a lot of other people,” he smiled.

“Well, this place is incredible,” you said, marveling at the surroundings.

“I thought you well worth it,” he said. 

You blushed involuntarily. This man may be trying to kill you, but he wasn’t without his charms.

“So, tell me about yourself,” you said as he poured you some wine. The thought crossed your mind that it might be poisoned, but you reminded yourself he didn’t know who you were.

“There’s not much to tell,” he lied. “I grew up in New York, poor, I created a business, and now I’m here,” he said. “What about yourself?”

“Oh, well I didn’t grow up here,” you said. “But I moved here a few years ago, and I really like it.”

“Even with all the filth and crime?” he asked. 

“It’s not so bad,” you lied to the leader of a crime syndicate currently trying to kill you.

“This city’s not what it used to be,” he said.

The waiter brought out your food. You hadn’t ordered, but somehow it was just what you were in the mood for.

“It’s gone to the dogs. I want to make the city great, like it once was.”

“How would you do that?” you asked, genuinely interested. You began to pick at your food as he spoke. 

“Well,” he said carefully, watching you eat. “I would start with getting rid of my enemies.”

Your blood turned cold with the way that he looked at you. 

“Daredevil, for one,” he said. “It took a lot of work to find you, you know. That tabloid picture was rather blurry. Luckily the lad who took it had a better memory than his phone had flash.

You dropped your fork, feeling dizzy. 

“You weren’t in danger there. There was no reason for the Devil to be there unless… He wanted to be.”

Fisk stood up and walked to the window. You tried to reach for your gun, but your hands were heavy. It felt like you were in a dream, and even if you could get up to run, the hallways would stretch and you’d run in place.

“And so Wesley found you. And lo and behold, we could kill two birds with one stone. The Union Allied loose ends and the Daredevil problem. That dye job and cut doesn’t quite change enough,” he tsked. “So when your screams tonight lure the Devil here, to this deserted building, and we take care of him, we’ll just take care of you right after.”

Your vision was going blurry now, and you heard a ringing noise in your ears.

Fisk turned from the window and walked lazily over to you. He picked up a knife from the table, a sharp one for cutting meat, and held it carefully. 

“I have no doubt the Devil is listening,” Fisk said. “He keeps tabs on certain people. People he has… interests in. Professional or otherwise. But you need to scream first.”

Fisk held the knife up to your neck. If you screamed you’d be giving him what he wanted, but Daredevil might come as well, and that would probably be your best bet at this point. You didn’t really have a choice, however, when Fisk took the knife and cut a line just above your collarbone.

The shriek left your lungs of its own accord, and though the cut was not deep, it was on a sensitive part of your skin. Fisk smiled and pulled back, waiting.

You heard rustling in the hallway outside. It almost sounded like bodies being slammed onto the floor. And then the door opened.

It was strange to see him inside, especially in a nice place like this. He seemed quite out of place, like seeing a movie star in the grocery store.

“Fisk,” the Devil spat. He held no weapons, nothing that could aid his attack.

“Run,” you breathed. Fisk undoubtedly had weapons in this room, and you didn’t doubt his ability to stab effectively either.

The Devil’s glance flitted to you and then back to Fisk. 

“Let her go,” he said. 

“Do you think that the people who built this city let their most essential building materials go?” Fisk asked. “Because that’s what she is. You and she are the only ones standing in my way right now. The only ones standing in the way of progress, of greatness. Once I use the two of you to start construction on my new city, I’ll have the start I need.”

“This city won’t be built on terror,” Daredevil said. “Let her go. We can figure something out.”

“You don’t tell me what my city will be built on,” Fisk spat. “She knows too much. And you,” he pointed the knife at the masked man. “You have no idea what it takes.”

“I’m willing to try honestly, with as little violence as possible.”   
“Honestly?” Fisk laughed. “You won’t even show your face.”

The devil flinched almost imperceptibly.

“Let her go,” he repeated. 

“Or what?” Fisk asked, holding the knife to your throat. “You don’t have the leverage here, I do.”

Your vision was getting really blurry now, and you found it hard to distinguish which way was up. You felt your body tipping, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. You hit the floor, avoiding Fisk’s knife, and saw the Devil lunge. You saw the knife go into his side, heard a scream, and several punches. There was a barrage of noises for almost thirty seconds until everything went black.

Your head hurt when you woke up. It hurt more than any hangover ever had. Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw the familiar sight of Matt’s ceiling. You were in his bed. But how?

Your mind flashed back to the last time you could remember. Your date with Fisk. Daredevil. Poison. Blackness.

You heard your name said on familiar lips and blinked to clear your vision. You tried to sit up, but  hand on your shoulder held you down gently. 

“Don’t try to get up,” he said. 

You rested your head back on your pillow and tilted it towards the voice. It was Matt. Of course it was Matt. You weren’t even mad anymore.

“Matt,” you croaked, finding your voice hoarse. He handed you a glass of water.

You took a few sips and rested, feeling tired from even just that minimal exertion. Matt’s hand moved some hair out of your face and caressed your forehead. He was sitting on the bed, and it took you a moment to see his torso, and what looked so wrong there. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Instead, he had a large pad of gauze and tape wrapped around him to hold it on.

You went stiff when the memory hit you. Daredevil had been stabbed by Fisk in that very spot.

“I have something I should tell you,” Matt said, almost smiling.

“What the fuck,” you stuttered, scrambling back away from him. “You?”

“I can explain,” Matt said cautiously, as though you were in any condition to run or attack him.

“You’re Daredevil?” you gasped, trying to wrap your head around it. He hung his head. 

“Yes,” He said. 

“Are you… Are you even  _ blind?” _ you asked, thinking of how agile the Devil was.

“It’s complicated,” he said, his lips forming a tight line.

“You lied to me,” you said, realizing how true it was. 

“I didn’t want to,” he answered quietly. “It was for--”

“If you say my protection I’m going to hit you,” you said. He nodded and shut up. “Does Foggy know?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

So Foggy knew. Foggy was okay with it. Somehow that made it easier to digest.

You were breathing hard, staring at Matt. You felt betrayed of course at first, but… If you were a vigilante, you wouldn’t go around telling every guy you slept with either. You hadn’t known each other that long. There were a lot of factors here, and you were starting to see why he hadn’t told you. Still, Matt not being quite blind was a total game changer.

“I think… You should start at the beginning,” you said quietly.

Matt sighed, wincing as he shifted on the bed to face you. He explained the incident that blinded him again, this time including the chemical spill and the enhanced perception. He told you about Stick and the training involved. You listened intently, feeling like you were suddenly privy to classified and important information. He explained as best he could his abilities and their extents.

“So you can… hear my heartbeat,” you realized as you felt it thudding against your chest.

“Yes,” Matt answered after some hesitation. 

“You could tell when I was… excited, or scared… or lying,” you realized. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“That’s hardly fair,” you laughed sardonically.

“I can’t really  _ not _ hear it, especially when it’s loud and clear,” he defended. “But I understand… Besides this, admittedly large instance, I’ve never lied to you.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for that?” you asked.

He moved cautiously towards you and reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it and place it on his chest. 

“You can test me anytime,” he said, his heartbeat slow and steady.

You relaxed a little. You pulled your hand away and ran it through your hair. 

“So you are the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” you said slowly. “You… were the one who saved my life in the alleyway… who checked up on me… who saved me again from Fisk.”

“Yeah,” Matt said. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. He said nothing. You looked at your hands.

“It’s what I do,” he finally answered. 

There was silence for a long time while you thought. Did this change anything? At least now you knew everything. His protective nature made a lot of sense now. He was still Matt, that hadn’t changed. It was just… extra.

You moved slowly across the bed and towards him. You brushed your hand along his chest, feeling down to the beginning of the tape holding the gauze on. 

“How bad is it?” you asked. 

“I have a friend. She stitched me up,” he explained. You gave him a look, unsure if he could see it, but sure he could sense it. “She’s a nurse,” he said. “She said I’d be fine.”

You were unconvinced, but nodded. You leaned closer to him, letting your head drift towards his shoulder. You were glad he was okay. As much as this did change things, it didn’t change the fact that you wanted these arms around you at night. You wanted this man to survive, to be with you. You kissed his shoulder gently and held your lips near his neck. He turned to meet your lips with his. 

It was sweet, delicate, testing. It was questioning and accepting. You pulled away and leaned your forehead against his.

“So you really meant it then,” you said softly. 

“What’s that?”

“When you said you’d protect me.”

“To my dying breath,” he promised, cupping your face in his hands. “I promise.”

You closed your eyes and kissed Daredevil, hoping that the promise wouldn’t come to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a million year delay, just got back into writing this, not sure when the updates will be, but thanks for the support!


End file.
